Of Ice and Dragons : Rewriten
by Ace Warbringer
Summary: REWRITTEN, a finalized version of Ice and Dragons. Written by Ace Warbringer. Reviewed and Edited by Master T-Rex. What Happens when a person loses everything? When Power is nothing more than Pain to others? Join two people as they tread such a path. Zin-Gro-Unahzaal.
1. prolog

**Of Ice and Dragons**

**Story By: Ace Warbringer**

**Reviewed, Rewritten and Edited by MASTER T-REX**

Author's words:

Hey all!

So I figured id drop this on you guys (and gals!)! Here I write, the how's and whys "Of Ice and Dragons".

When I first started this project, all I wanted to do was write was a simple little story that took off from the normal pair-ups, one that I could enjoy writing about. You have your Jelsa fans, and Elsannas (*squick* not my bag of toys). For whether Dovahkiin is female or male, the pair ups go out to lunch.

Or dinner if there is a late night setting. Whatever your first date option is preferred. (Big smile here.)

I only thought "Eh, ten thousand words to start, give or take."

Uh-huh, yeah, sure Ace. And I've got a bridge in Manhattan to sell you. (MASTER T-REX: That's funny because I live in NYC.)

I have seriously underestimated my story, and at the time of writing this now, the story is 80k words and climbing. I seriously do not see anything less than reaching 100k plus by the end of it. Maybe 125k plus. (That's right, were getting close to the end people.)

So One of 'My Problems' was one of how does power effect the relationships and pairings that are put into action? And to tell you the honest truth, when I first saw this, I figured that the only character I knew of which could come even close to matching Elsa was the Dovahkiin. Or maybe Jack Frost, whom I'm not as familiar with as the rest of you. After all this time and I've never seen the movie. I'll get to it one of these days.

With the Jelsa's, you have a big issue of immortality. And some people put that front and center.

For the Dovahkiin/Dragonborn, you have the issue of how do you work around such a character? Their power, what their skills are, what their personality is like?

The character of the Dovahkiin is pretty open ended, so that allows a lot of development to be put in. And that also brings up one of my pet peeves that I see a lot. Many decide that he's done everything in the game. And I mean EVERTHING! All the guilds, full main story, EVEN BOTH OF THE CIVIL WAR QUESTS! (HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE!?)

*Ahem*, deep breaths Ace, deep breaths.

This makes the character too 'Broad' in my honest opinion. Limits are a big part of who we are. Hence why the Dovahkiin in 'Of Ice and Dragons' is only a simple warrior who can use the Thu'um. Granted beside those facts, he's a badass, but that comes with the territory of being the Dragonborn. Plus my little refinements on how the true dragon name affects you.

And Elsa brings her own brand of problems to the table. A shut-in natural sorceress, with the implied ability to freeze the world? The thing that gets me is why that didn't it happen sooner (Oh yeah, then the movie would have had other issues with Kristanna, namely age implications. A smart move by Disney in my opinion.) and her limits are in her emotions, plus I've sort of taken away her ability to create life, (too much in my opinion) and instead have her naturally summon ice Atronach's, (golems from the elder scrolls), which is something I haven't really gone into detail about yet, at the time of writing this. (I maybe/might not, one thing I do like is to leave crap for interpretation, sometime the readers imagination is better than any sentence of description.)

(MASTER T-REX: In all honesty, that's true for everyone, including me. BUT, it would be cool to see Elsa summon ice dragons in my opinion.)

So I started writing, figure a quick intro to the Dovahkiin (my choice was basically in protest to the thousands of Jelsas out there, plus the fact I don't know Jack Frost well.), whom I wanted to be a tragic character, and to be paired with Elsa, who is also a tragic character, so that everything becomes canon to the story.

Then the bastard Dovahkiin (not really!) stole the show. I had so much fun writing him that I just had to keep going with him. And that's how I got into writing more of Skyrim's story. (My original big idea was for him to be almost immediately tossed into the time-stream / between dimensions by Alduin. But I would have had lots of trouble explaining his abilities) and how he sort of became the star of the show.

Now one of the big things I ran into is that I have not really written anything like this before, save for some English assignments in high school. And boy does it show. Re-reading this beast with Master T-rex looking over my shoulder and helpfully pointing out my many mistakes has shown that I did not know what the frap I was doing.

So everybody here got the first draft, which has never really had a storyline. For that I apologize. But I figured eventually I would get a beta, and do the rewrite after the story was finished. Simple right?

I got featured on TV-Tropes. By recommendation of Mister Cuddlesworth. (MASTER T-REX: It sounds awesome, but I couldn't stop laughing at 'Mister Cuddlesworth' XD)

My reaction since I saw this on my way to work was one of pull the truck over and do a "holy shit!" moment. I'm a big fan of the site, and while not a member, I do pay attention to it for ideas and issues. This sort of honor blew me away. I never expected it.

At this point I said to myself in one long and drawn out process that I needed to get a Beta. And with a bit of hunting and a couple of suggestions, MASTER T-REX stepped up to the plate.

(MASTER T-REX: *bows*)

In my opinion it's a slam dunk. The guy has taken this story to a new level, but there are parts where I don't agree with everything, but we are meeting at a middle ground as to how the story should be fixed and how it should progress correctly. I have some specific ideas for this that I don't want to let go of. (MASTER T-REX: I completely respect that.)

However, I do think he has done an absolutely fantastic job. So give and take. And a heartfelt thank you to him.

So now we get this, my story. Rewritten and edited, parsed, folded, spindled, and mutilated in more ways than one. And hopefully, one of the better reads that can live up to people's expectations on this site.

So read on fellow fans of the story. And give a review. Or a PM. And be sure to follow and/or favorite.

Ace Warbringer


	2. Chapter 1

**Of Ice and Dragons**

**By Ace Warbringer**

**Reviewed and Edited by Master T-Rex**

**A/N: Disclaimer - All characters, Titles, and places belong to their respective owners.**

**Chapter 1**

**"Dragonborn, Dragonborn! To Your Honor Be Sworn!"**

The world around him was no longer what he once knew.

What he saw distinguished his despair over all other emotions. Ice and Fire blazed around him, the air colder than the north winds and the fire's smoke poisoned the air, not allowing him to breathe and stinging his eyes. Not allowing him to see very far.

Even though his eyes slowly searched the scorched earth and through the blizzard wind, he called for Her, hoping that she would hear him, prayed that the individual who could show him what happened, and he prayed he was wrong.

But this was a lie he kept telling himself again and again and again until he saw the truth himself.

As he crossed the bodies that lay dead at his very feet, he saw his one true love, unmoving amongst the dead. His scream of despair rose through his lips, calling her name so that she may move, but she remained still as a statue.

He ran to her, and as the very realization stabbed slowly into his heart, he fell to his knees near her fallen form. His wife laid dead in his arms as he picked her up, his very heart beating for a love he lost forever. As his trembling fingers moved her dirty blonde-matted hair away from her face, he saw her beauty that matched the very ice of a cold winter morning sun. He would dare say that her beauty outmatched any royal queen. Her striking deep blue eyes held a lifeless stare, and he somehow saw that they were full of life and glowed purple when facing the sunset until there was the darkness of night.

As he brought her closer, she looked like she was resting. He knew that closing her eyes was a sign of peace, and he also knew now that he would never see them full of life ever again.

He could no longer hide the truth from himself, for a cloak from one of the dead told him who had killed her before he too had died from his arrow wounds. In His service to the empire not long ago, He had fought them before.

He saw what she had done before she fell. Her form was strong, her arm straight and swift with the bow and arrow, and the look of conquest over her enemies burned in her deep blue eyes, and the glow of the sun made them look violet. She had killed most of them, for her arrows aimed true and never faltered against the very wind. But one archer alone cannot stand against an army, this was true for all. No matter how skilled she was in combat, She had fallen to their metal.

The only thing that he took in from this was that she died a warrior's death, and her death was swift.

He wanted to weep, he wanted to give up, to shout to the heavens for his wife until his throat lost its voice, and the thought of joining her came and went. But he knew better. He knew she wouldn't want him to do something foolish, but his anger crept forward.

They could shatter his axe and break his sword, they could stone his chest and whip his back, they could hang him and make him starve of hunger and thirst, and they can go so far as to send him to his death by facing a dragon defenseless, he would trade anything to change his wife's fate.

They had taken the one thing that made his heart burn and beat, that made his back strong and his judgment wiser, that made his sword swift and his armor sure.

As the day turned into night and the earth healed over, he laid her on the pyre he had built, and took up the torch. With rising flame, he did not sleep and watched her peaceful form turn to ash and scatter to the wind.

He wept silently and prayed for her to find peace. Then came a new purpose, one that made his heart burn with fury like a war drum, that made his back straighter and his judgment clouded, that made his sword deadly and turned his thoughts from armor.

He moved towards what remained of a burnt shed that was mostly looted of its tools.

There was a reason why he knew that they only took most of what remained. With all of his strength, he lifted an old stone slab, still warm from the fire, and moved it aside. What lied under it was a two handed heavy sword made of steel and armor that has slightly rusted over not having been used for such a long time.

With hatred in his heart that burned with such passion, he lifted the sword in its sheath, checking to see the old steel. It still remained bright, its edge kept sharp through practice long ago.

Having hunted men and mer for so long, he could see the signs of their passage in the cold dawn light. He knows the roads and trails, the paths and shortcuts, the woods and valleys and trenches that mapped the earth.

He will find them.

He will get ahead of them.

_And He will Stop Them. _

OOOOO

Lothar was a happy elf today, and this is never taken lightly. It only seems on such rare occasions that he feels such a moving emotion take course on his mood. Their cause to raid the fields earlier had been served well. Two farms were burned down and cattle was gutted and carried for food and one troublesome blacksmith was taught a lesson before taking the weapons that he was building.

It was cheery up here in the mountains; one could almost forget the penance placed upon the world for the Trick of Lorkan. The Thalmor officer sobered himself quick, as was the natural routine of doing so.

As left his tent, Lothar found his men already finishing their feast and packing for another journey to Helgen. One of his men went to him and wished him a good morning as he said afterward, "You think we'll do any more good on this road today my lord?"

"There is always more work to be done," Lothar replied, "and we will be the ones to do it. But we must hurry if we are to catch up with the group ahead. I hear General Tulius has a surprise planned for the Stormcloaks." Lothar than began to put on his armor that held distinctive gold and black designs. A rising grin from the soldier silently told him that today might just be slightly tolerable after all.

Once they have prepared for their journey, they began to ride down the mountains and they eventually entered a route through the woods.

OOOOO

He stood in the middle of the road, his skills as a tracker while hunting has finally found itself some use, as he discovered confirmation that the people that attacked two other farms and had killed his wife were the Thalmor, Cruel agents of the Aldemeri Dominion.

He selected a spot on this road because it was one of the closet routes where raiders like them wouldn't be spotted. After he was finished. He wore his old armor, and time has made it battered and worn, but it still fitted snugly to him. He had his old steel two-handed sword, strapped to his back.

As he waited on the muddy trail, a whisper came from his heart, like the sound of the wind, told him that she would not want this. Even though that was only a whisper, it felt like he was being branded. It no longer mattered whether to leave or not, for he saw them coming.

He heard their laughter, and the rising passion that burned in his heart gathered in him. They rounded the corner ahead, marching on foot save for the officer on horseback. A voice inside telling him that this would not bring her back, but it was but a sibilant echo in the gale of his rage. An unheard shout in the hurricane of his anger.

He stared on, defiant that they will stand little chance against him. Eventually they saw him and one of them ran back to tell their leader.

He pulled out his sword, its deadly tip placed in the dirt at his feet.

As he saw the officer moved forward on his horse and stopped near the men in front of the group, he saw in their eyes that certain gaze of suspicion.

He answered their questionable gaze with his war cry, which he put in all the air his lungs to summon out. Ripping his sword into the air next to him.

They froze in their tracks, shocked and stunned by such a shout.

One final thought came to him as he charged, as the rage He carried was unleashed upon Her murderers…

…_soon…_

OOOOO

They were too stunned when they saw the very battleground before them as the small company of Legionnaires searched through the dead bodies.

Carts broken in mad rush, horses maimed in desperate retreat, Mer dismembered as their limbs and parts were scattered in random places, and what remained of the officer was but that of bloody chunks and ripped armor.

They found one Man alive. Unconscious, dirtied in blood like he had just rolled in the bloody mud of the battlefield. His sword was but a broken stump of steel. The armor on his very body was rent by blades, jabbed from bows, and burned from spells.

It was clear that none had survived his wrath, which they guessed that he was the one that committed this vile deed, and it looked like they would most likely suffer the same fate if they were not careful. The Imperial Officer nudged the man with his boot and was rewarded by a groan.

He ordered to his men, "Bind him and bring him with the others. The Thalmor is going to want this man's head."

OOOOO

A creaking wagon wheel and a blur of light was what he first heard and saw, but slipped back into darkness again. He was brought back from the depths as a voice said, "Hey, hey you, wake up!"

He slowly opened his eyes and he raised his head to look to the speaker as the speaker said again, "Got a nasty lump there, didn't you? Caught in the same net we were." He saw that the man was blond and tall. Sitting next to him was one equally as tall but wearing a gag, but of dark hair and beard. Something about the dark haired one spoke of nobility.

"Along with that thief back there." The blonde continued, jerking his head towards the man.

"If it weren't for you Stormcloaks, I'd be halfway back to Hammerfell by now!" the so called thief was a thin man, long limbs, but was also very dirty, with a strange face that instantly made Him distrustful.

"Where are we going?" the Thief asked the blonde

"I don't know," The tall blonde man said, "but Sovengarde awaits."

OOOOO

"He What?!" she shouted in rage, the expression of shock on the female Thalmor's face was worth every Septim in his purse, Hadvar decided, but he shouldn't think of such fun on the matter and said officially, "Every last one fell your honor. The whole patrol was wiped out brutally, and the man responsible was nearly killed in the process. We guess that the wounds he sustained have caused him to become unconscious."

The female Thalmor slammed her closed fist onto the table, which rattled loudly like an earthquake, making him Hadvar and others amongst him go silent and then she said, "I don't care if he was nearly killed or caught in the act of pissing on their corpses! I claim him for the Thalmor inquisition and I want to see him punished!"

A new voice broke in. "He'll be dealt with like the others in Helgen," the general replied, "The quicker we deal with this troublesome lot, the better."

The female Thalmor stepped away from the table and said, "General, if I may-"

"No, you may not. They will be taken care of accordingly and you have no say in this matter. _Thalmor._" The general directed, a withering glare piercing at the newest thorn in his side.

Her temper began to rise, but she took a deep breath and said, "Very well." To Hadvar, it finally appeared that the lady had learned that once the general had made a decision, discussion was over. Hadvar decided to leave before anything could escalate.

OOOOO

Helgen.

He had never had a reason to cross into Skyrim before. Most of his work went to the local villages around him, and most didn't travel very far for his work. He was one of the two blacksmiths that worked around the small villages for pay. It was an honest living, and one that many people needed for supply and demand of tools and certain crafts. At rare times, he made weapons and armor.

It was funny how he once thought there was nothing for him in his homeland, but now he was here for what he did. He hoped she could forgive him, for it looked like he wouldn't be with her.

_It's for the best_, He thought. He had broken his promise to her, for he had taken up the sword again. And Sovengarde did not await any Oathbreakers; He would merely languish at the gates, unable to even see the great fields of testing.

He had damned himself. Eternally. And now he would go to face the great Test. Only to Fail. _She would never know_, he hoped, he prayed.

"You can't do this to me!" the thief had said as he was struggling against the people that captured him and the others like him. With surprising speed, the thief injured them and broken free as he began to run for the woods.

He knew that was a bad move before he even heard the shout from the captain, "Archers!"

He could only watch as the thief hit the road hard, every arrow shot from each archer hit its mark as they protruded from his back like some twisted porcupine.

His heart began to feel deep sorrow as such skill from the archers reminded him of his beloved, who he knew that she could best any archer. And she would only have needed one shot to the back of his neck to save the thief from the suffering of multiple arrows. And he hated that as well. These types of armies rarely make their kills swift and out of mercy, only slow and in cold blood.

"Anyone else feel like running?" The captain dared. Unsurprisingly, no one took her up on that offer.

"Next prisoner." The captain said, and then he stepped forward.

Hadvar looked at Him, a man stained in blood, dressed in simple rags that he knew once held armor, but at the same time, something told him that this man had more to him then what the eyes could ever tell.

Of course, he thought, 2 scores of dead soldiers might have something to do with it.

"What is your name?" Hadvar spoke to the man.

He looked to Hadvar, and he knew this man's name for he paid attention to that very legionnaire since his capture, listening as he was addressed by his name. Hadvar was the same height and similar age as him; he had red hair and green eyes, but was pale.

Hadvar did not like the way the man was looking at him with green-gold eyes that held such an unusual hue to them. They spoke volumes of what he had been though, and if his hunch was right, none of it was good. His face was rugged, with a prominent scar on his right, which was vertical on the end of his jawbone. His dirty dark brown hair reached his neck and he had a muscular build.

After what seemed like an endless eternity of silence, he straightened his back, his strong form held tall, as he barely acknowledged his restraints. But when he spoke his quiet sorrow tinged his words.

"None worth remembering."

The shock Hadvar felt at that statement was very unexpected. A Nord that didn't want to be remembered? His statement alone would have been slightly entertaining, but for the solid block of stares from the Stormcloaks around him, they were just as surprised as he. But the locked gaze of the man in front of him told him nothing would force this man's name out. No torture or threat of death could do so.

He tried a new tactic. Thinking on the words of the morning, he belived this man had not killed with no reason. Besides, it was only a couple of Thalmor.

He went to the female captain, "Captain his name isn't on the list, says' he has no name."

The older female's short reply dispelled any chance he had of altering the outcome of this as she spoke, "It doesn't matter. He goes to the block with the rest of them."

Hadvar sighed, and he turned back to the prisoner as he said. "I'm sorry Kinsman; you picked a bad time to come home to Skyrim."

OOOOO

The first man's head rolled off his shoulders.

Cheers from the onlookers,

It was his turn to be executed.

He stepped forward, and laid his head without prompting on the block.

The executioner raised his weapon, A Headsman's Ax, and prepared to cut his head off.

A roar of anger sounds from the sky.

"Forgive me." he whispers to his beloved.

A roar of force unleashed,

He knew that he would not be joining her at the great hall of Sovengarde,

The crowd shouts as one as the Black Form is revealed,

A roar of challenge and vengeance echoes his ears.

The sky burned with a terrible fire, as the dread Spark of Creation landed on the tower behind the Executioner, knocking the man flat with the force of its landing.

People shouted and screamed in terror around him, the smoky fog from the burning fires blared around him, making it hard to see and hard to breathe.

And as he lifted his head, he looked full on to the face of Destruction, and knew that death had come for him. Not by ax. But by a Dragon's fiery breath, claws, or teeth.

He stood, and the great Destroyer of old looked at him, and opened its many fanged mouth.

It spoke with power behind its timeless age.

**"YOL!"**

The one who had asked his name, Hadvar, ran from the side towards him.

**"TOOR!"**

He lifted his face to the beast and showed no fear, knowing death was near.

**"SHUUL!"**

Hadvar barely made it out of the path of fire the Dragon had unleashed, and pushed the nameless man inside the tower on the side of the road with him. The burning embers of the blast drifting around them as it attacked with its fire-like breath. The Stranger watched the man, Hadvar, rose to crouch by the door, patting off embers from his cloak.

Hadvar looked to him and said with anger, "If you want to stay alive kinsman, then I suggest you follow me."

OOOOO

He followed the man who saved him, his fore-bound hands giving him little trouble. He was enraged; for this fellow Nord had saved his life. Now he owed him his own, and he could no longer find the peace that was death itself until he repaid it.

Hadvar stopped and said to the man, "Here, let me get those bindings off you." With a quick slice of his dagger, the bindings fell away.

"Try to find a weapon for yourself." Hadvar said

All around them, the town was being destroyed by the dragon, and the man searched until he saw an abandoned blacksmith's shop. It was the perfect place to find a weapon, and after a quick search, he turns up with a steel long sword. "All set?" Hadvar asked

The man grabbed a sheath and strapped it around his waist, afterwards sheathing the sword and then nodding.

"Then let's get moving." Hadvar said.

OOOOO

The trip through the tunnels they had found was the quickest way to escape the danger above them undetected, and Hadvar had begun to worry about this man, for there was no fear of death in him. He started to doubt if saving his life was the right thing to do, for all he knew, he could stab him and loot his dead body after pissing on it. The words of the Thalmor coming back to him, a reminder he could do such things to him.

And if he had to guess, the Stranger also didn't fear anything that could kill him. Any who attacked the two were put down by a blazing flurry of swordsmanship the likes Hadvar had never seen before. The man had two swords now, and seemed to use them in perfect tandem, guard and thrust, slash and parry. This man must have been a soldier, a Warrior, of great renown, yet Hadvar did not recognize him.

A perfect mystery to the man who had no name.

And yet, he started to become curious as if he did have a name, but didn't want anyone to know.

OOOOO

Ambush. A slash was barely parried, and as a result, Hadvar was set back on his heels by a Stormcloak who somehow got his hands on an ax.

The ring of steel on steel behind him told of the Stranger's swords doing their deadly work. This particular Stormcloak he faced knew his weaponry, and Hadvar found himself unable to do anything more than furiously parry and block the swings of the man. A duck beneath a backhanded swing, finally giving him the advantage he needed, and with a quick thrust he ended the man who tried to kill him. A look to the Stranger however stopped Hadvar in his place as if he hit a wall of mud.

Thrust and parry, counterstrike and slash. The grace and violence of the Stranger's skill with his swords left him dumbstruck as he masterfully juggled six very good opponents.

The continuous ring of steel on steel was but a majestic and deadly melody to the fury of combat and the shouts of men.

Three of the strangers opponents were down already, but wounds were appearing on his body as the fight went on, showing Hadvar that the Stranger also had limitations in combat. A livid wound across the Strangers chest spurred Hadvar into action, and with a war cry, stunning his enemies out of surprise; he swung at the nearest Stormcloak.

Thanks to the sudden war cry, he successfully took one down, only for two of the Stranger's opponents to come after him, and he unfortunately realized that they were much better than the first one he had faced.

The Stranger, now with only two opponents left, easily cut them down by his skill and turned to the Legionnaire. Only to find Hadvar very hard pressed, held from behind by a disarmed Stormcloak.

A desperate last resort guard against the one in front of him.

The Stranger narrowed his eyes and began to advance on them, Hadvar had a chance as the last one paid attention to only him and swung his head back, breaking the Stormcloak's nose. With a sharp twist of his body, Hadvar was able to break free and was able to reverse his sword and thrusting under his arm, stabbed the Stormcloak holding him.

The man holding him from behind in a death grip, Hadvar's sword trapped in his body, the Stormcloak in front of Hadvar took his chance. Thrusting forward with the old iron blade he held.

And as the thrust almost finds its mark on the chest of Hadvar, the stranger's blade explodes through the man's chest.

The Stranger quickly removed the blade from the Stormcloak's chest and with a powerful yell, the Stranger swung strongly crossing his blades, and decapitated the mans head, both the body and the head hitting the ground in a wet and bloody thud.

OOOOO

Hadvar struggled to catch his breath as the Stranger sat to begin wiping his blades down.

The rest that they took away from where they fought were not by choice, for both fighters needed to regain their strength and stay out of sight of any more of them… and the Dragon as well.

"Still sounds like It's tearing everything apart up there." Hadvar said, hearing the chaos above them in the tunnel they were in.

The Stranger spoke with quiet authority, his years in the legion telling him the dreadful toll the townsmen above were suffering, "It is more worse than you can imagine."

Hadvar grunted from his injuries as he leaned against a wall and spoke tiredly, "Damn dragon doesn't give up easily."

He wanted to go back, but with the passage collapsed behind them, there was no choice but to go forward. Hadvar stood, his side aching where he had been grazed by the blade.

"Ready to move?" Hadvar asked a he lent a hand to the Stranger.

A quick nod appeared and the Stranger grabbed his arm to let Hadvar pull him up, feeling his squeezing hand on Hadvar's arm was enough to tell the Legionnaire just how strong he was, though sorely wounded, and he pulled him up to his feet.

Hadvar smiled and motioned the Stranger to began to walk ahead as he spoke, "Good, I think that if we follow this passage, we would come out near the northern slopes. And then it's just a few days journey to Riverwood. I have family there where we can rest. Hopefully, they will help us."

The stranger nodded his head as the two warriors moved cautiously down a twisting passage.

"You saved my life, legionnaire." the man had his sword in his left hand as Hadvar followed him. The other wrapped about the blade.

Shock and dread flew through the Legionnaire at where the Strangers hands were. _Please_, Hadvar thought, _do not perform the full life debt, sworn on blood. By the grace of the Divines, do not swear with blood, Stranger!_

Hadvar took a deep breath from the situation and said, "I suppose you do, Stranger. But you have saved mine once so far, that is enough."

But what came next twisted Hadvar's fears higher as Hadvar suddenly heard the Stranger say in a voice that he never heard from him before, repeating himself in a dark tone, "I owe you my life, Legionnaire."

The raw anger and pain in the stranger's voice told him more than anything; this was a man who wanted to die. But now He could not, for this was a debt that must be paid. His bare right hand released the Blade.

"Three acts, Legionnaire. One has been completed." The Stranger announced.

"Three acts, Stranger. One has been completed." Said Hadvar, Accepting the Debt.

The words were true relief to the Legionnaire, a full Life Debt, bound by word of Honor. In the old Nordic way, and not in blood. Hadvar could only quietly thank the divines in his minds voice. Knowing the danger of the blood bound debt.

Between two soldiers, there could be no greater brotherhood.

For prisoners, no greater release.

For the damned, no greater punishment.


	3. Chapter 2

**Of Ice and Dragons**

**Chapter 2:**

**"Hearken now, sons of snow, to an age, long ago**

**And the tale, boldly told, of the one!**

**Who was kin to both wyrm, and the races of man,**

**With a power to rival the sun!"**

The Stranger and the Legionnaire, who have traveled far away from their earlier dangers, sat by a small campfire as the day began to turn to night. Both warriors looking to the flames as its heat and crackle of wood helped obscure the sounds of the world around in a muted whisper and keep away the coldness of the night, as well as the sibilant breeze floating through the trees around them.

Hadvar's gaze slowly turned away from the fire to the Stranger, whose face was lost to the past.

Hadvar leaned forward speaking quietly, as men do around a fire, "Listen, my kinsman, I know today was not the best example of the empire," the Strangers sharp look to Hadvar made him quicken his explanation, "but the empire does a lot more good than you think…" he trailed off and realized how he placed his words as the strangers fury rose to the surface of his face.

His reply was somewhat expected, "You speak as if the Empire is of good intentions, yet the Empire achieves those intentions by sanctioning those who murder. Am I right, _Legionnaire_?"

Hadvar held his breath, looking back to realize that the Empire goes through much brutality on the people to achieve something good Hadvar replied to his question by saying, "I don't defend those who take innocent lives kinsman."

The Stranger scowled back like a growling wolf, and even though it were weak as a whisper, it was clearer than the mountain day to a soldier, "Don't call me kinsman."

Hadvar was taken aback and thus resulted in them staring at the fire in silence once more.

After what seemed like a few breaths later, The Stranger said to Hadvar, "You say that you are with the Empire to do good, and yet you side with those who take the lives of the innocent. By your inaction in stopping them, you're just as guilty as the others." It hurt Hadvar to hear him say that to the man who saved his life, but even though he saw the fury in the Strangers face, he had the feeling that it wasn't directed at him.

"My inaction?" Hadvar began to sound angry himself and reasoned, "I am not a general, Stranger. I cannot tell others what to do. And the misery I see inflicted on the lives of the innocent has punished my soul. I only do what I can to stop it."

The locked gaze of the Stranger and the Legionnaire held across the fire communicated the simple sincerity of the statement. Hadvar than chose to continue his reason, "When we first met, I saw the honor in you. Even though you killed a lot of Thalmor, you must have done it for some reason. When we get back, I will do everything in my power to start an investigation and clear your name."

Hadvar watched as the Stranger made a face of sorrow and looked into the fire, his right hand clenching in a fist. He saw the Stranger's eyes look like they were a sad flame burning within them, like it wanted to wither and die, but it still kept burning, and thus his fury subsiding with his quiet whisper "You have made the mistake of not listening to what I said earlier; Oath-breakers have no name worth remembering…"

Hadvar looked to him as he turned around and lay down to sleep. But by then he was confused. If he considered himself an Oath-Breaker, than why did he keep his word of repaying the debt that involved Hadvar saving his life? Hadvar didn't ponder on the question any further as he too went to sleep. Tomorrow was promising to be a very long day.

OOOOO

_ He pounded the last piece into place, swift and sure. The hammer he held created the harmony of the steel on steel sounds that echoed in his workplace._

_He already finished his work on the sets of swords, but he also had another errand that he needed to do. He stepped down for a moment and washed his face with a bucket of water from the spring he had taken earlier._

_After packing and closing his shop, he began to slow walk across the field to his home. It wasn't long until he saw the familiar glow of candlelight from within the windows of the home. When he entered, took out some pegs he had made and nailed a wooden rest against the wall. He placed his two-handed sword upon this new rest, then sat at his table to rest and relax. Staring at the blade he had worn for so many years._

_Not long after, his wife slips up behind him to squeeze his broad shoulders, she asks how his day was, knowing that she was always worried about how much pressure he put upon himself when it came to his work, as she granted a kiss behind his ear. Looking where he stares she exit's the room and returns carrying her Masterwork Ebony bow._

_She steps around and placed her bow over his sword, turns and kisses him from the stool._

_As they sat and ate, his wife looked over to her husband's sword and held back a concern that her husband knew all too well. He took her hand, a smile assuring her that it was not the case. He believed in the rightness of what they were doing. An abandonment of the life of war which they had left behind._

_She smiled and spoke, her voice a graceful light, "May we never take up our weapons ever again, My Husband. Let those days be behind us."_

OOOOO

He opened his eyes quickly, his breath loud as he held it with a quick gasp. His eyes were tired, but he saw clearly that Hadvar was still sleeping and the fire they built has died long ago.

He slowly got up from his position and saw that it was cold, early in the morning, for even though the sun was almost up, the night's chilly air still lingered.

The cold he felt was easily compared to his heart. His dream only increased his sorrow for his wife and his shame of breaking their promise. It would be something that will haunt him for as long as he breaths.

Distraught, he got up and used his foot to nudge Hadvar awake. When he woke up, the Stranger said, "If we leave now, we can get to Riverwood by midday tomorrow."

Hadvar grumbled about how he was irritated with waking so early, but they began their march to Hadvar's home.

OOOOO

After two and a half-a-midday long march, they reached Riverwood.

It was another town He had known about but never really wanted to see. They both were very haggard from the road.

"Come, my uncle owns a blacksmith shop in town. He'll aid us." Hadvar said

During their travel to Riverwood, Hadvar couldn't help but notice that the Stranger had been quiet these past couple of days. Hadvar could feel something in the air about him, and he knew it wasn't good to disturb him.

The Stranger looked up to the mountains around them. The sky was blue and he noticed something on the opposite slope from them, which the legionnaire followed his gaze.

"Bleak Falls Barrow." Hadvar said, "I used to dream about it when I was younger. Draugr and Trolls coming down the mountain to steal me in my sleep" The stanger had to admit something was drawing him to the place, only he didn't know what was doing that or why it was happening. Whatever it was, He knew it could wait.

OOOOO

As the Stranger and Hadvar ventured through town and crossed on the lands of Alvor's home, a blacksmith saw the pair of tired warriors. He recognized one of them as his nephew.

He walked down to him with a smile on his face as he said, "Hadvar! Shor's bone's boy what are you doing here?" Upon closer look, he noticed him very beaten down, scrapes and bruises plus minor wounds on both men and said, "You look like you lost a fight with a cave bear. What happened?"

Hadvar gave a warm smile and said to his uncle, "It's a long story uncle, and its better if we were to talk about it in private."

He eyed the man next to Hadvar, but guessed that he must be a friend, and gestured them inside as he said, "Well of course. Come, let's go inside."

OOOOO

The story of the Destruction of Helgen rocked Alvor, Hadvar's uncle, back in his chair as the two in front of him ate the table set by Sigrid. He spoke the first thought that came to mind and said, "Have you been drinking boy?"

Hadvar said with dead seriousness, "I wish I had been drinking Uncle. And if it weren't for my friend here, I'd be dead twice over."

The old blacksmith Alvor pondered the story, and shuddered at the thought of such destruction visiting his family, his town Riverwood. Hadvar's uncle finally spoke, "If this is true then the Jarl needs to be told."

He looked at the two and asked, "Can you two get word to him?"

The Legionnaire shook his head and sadly replied, "I have to return to Solitude as soon as possible; my duty demands it."

They both turned to the Stranger a spoon of stew halfway to his lips, who froze when they gazed at Him. And He knew what their question would be. He set his spoon down and sspoke in a voice that carried the weight of his debt, "I have a Life Debt to you Legionnaire."

The statement was simple and complex at the same time. And Hadvar could only see the trouble that would cause if he attempted to return to Solitude with a convict in tow, a man responsible for 2 scores of dead soldiers. He thought rapidly and was suddenly struck by an idea. Hadvar suggested to The Stranger, "You have saved my life twice Stranger," which made The Stranger nod, "then let this be your third and final service to me. Go to Whiterun and let the Jarl know of the danger."

The Stranger looked at the spoon of cold stew forgotten on the table before him. He nodded an acknowledgement, accepting the final service, and thus his quest began.

OOOOO

After a few questions in the morning, such as directions and who the Jarl was and what his home looked like, the Stranger than set off for the local general store for some supplies.

Alvor was troubled by the way the young man acted, and turned to Hadvar and asked, "Are you sure it's wise to let him go off on his own? There is a lot of anger in him."

Hadvar turned to his uncle, "I trust his honor Uncle. I think that's all he has left." A decision Hadvar had come to in the days after Helgen.

A grunt and a nod was presented from his Uncle.

"Boy, sometimes honor is all any of us have left in this world."

OOOOO

As he set foot inside the store, he immediately heard an argument between the Imperial owner and what readily became apparent as his sister was in full swing. An argument over weather or not they should go after a thief. With the slightly younger sister in favor of doing it herself.

"No! Absolutely not! No Barrow Roaming and certainly no _Thief Chasing_!" this all said in a near shout. The sister was holding her ground though, "Well one of us has to do something!"

The shopkeeper turned from where he was rearranging his shelf, "No! and that's final!…" his voice trailed off as he noticed the man in his store, a granite hard expression on his face.

"Oh.. A customer… Sorry you had to hear that. Whatever you Might have heard aside, the Riverwood Trader is open for business!"

The sharp reply wiped the smile forming on the traders face, "What do you have for supplies?" his growl barely above that of an animal, and his countenance whitening the face of the shopkeeper.

OOOOO

He climbed the mountain that the barrow rested on, his side aching in the cold air. The Oathbreaker ascended onwards, ignoring the pain, both inside and out. He had given his word, something he should not have done. The woman had pestered her brother about asking him to go after the Golden Claw. An old family heirloom.

He was not interested in doing anything that kept him from fulfilling his life debt. Or answering the call of Bleak Falls Barrow.

Until it was mentioned that was the most likely place for the thieves to be hiding.

OOOOO

The mighty stone edifice in front of him was a piece of history from long ago. Carved from the very mountain rock around him, rose the entrance to Bleak Falls Barrow.

Several dead bandits slain by his hand lay about. The ferocity unleashed upon them was testified by the wounds on their bodies. Ferocity they did not prepare for. One nearly torn in half from his strikes. Another decapitated. He had only paused to loot what little money they carried.

Looking about he searched for and shortly found the entrance to the barrow. And with a lit torch in hand, he descended into the mountains heart.

OOOOO

The thieves he faced often died before they even knew he was there. None stood against him for long. One who fancied himself a swordsman was cut down in three quick strikes. The rest ran for their lives.

Interrogating one of the bandits led him deeper into the stone. Their leader having taken the golden claw with him. Supposedly it would unlock a deeper part of the barrow, and that deeper part held a great treasure. It did not matter to him, only the location was of any use. That, and the call…

OOOOO

To the Oathbreaker, the Chase was short lived. The fleeing of the thief had been across a precipitous drop. Which the warrior had to navigate carefully. But when he got to the other side…

The Stranger paused. He didn't think you could stab a body that many times and have it hold together. One thing was for certain though, the ancients had an affinity for traps. He would have to be cautious. Searching the suspended thief's body he came across the shopkeepers item.

OOOOO

He was in the final chamber, a natural fissure in the rock with a small fall and stream flowing through it. A strange wall was carved into the rock bearing a dragon's skull above strange marks, looking for all the world as if some beast had clawed out the stone. But these marks called to him…

A stone sarcophagus stood in front of the wall. The Call was ever stronger as he moved slowly forward, for he was cautious as to what was making that Call and why.

The wall's front held strange marks, they were familiar, as if he had saw them long ago, yet they were indecipherable to him, for he never understood what it said. The call was strong and the dragons skull carved into the rock of the wall seem to almost be alive in the flickering of his torch.

And the Call beckoned him on.

The air itself vibrated with it.

A Chant, Powerful, in a language unknown.

He saw the Glow, He Felt its Measure.

Its Name suddenly slammed into him,

The power of the Word reeled through his mind.

And He knew **Force**.

Suddenly, the lid of the coffin that He had noticed slammed open, making him back off in caution. From It's dusty confines rose a Draugr the likes he had never seen, clad in old iron plating, wearing a strap that held its two handed sword on its back, and the bluish glow of its empty eye sockets locked onto him, and He could feel its gaze piercing him to his soul.

The Draugr spoke, its voice was deep and guttural, **"Hein. Hin meyz lost kosaan Prodah. Gruin Saviik." **It said, **"Nuz zu'u kent dein DovahVund nol pah." **

The tall Draugr drew its sword smoothly, and now seeing the undead warrior as a threat made Him do the same with his blades.

It spoke again, "**Orin nol Hi**." Even though He couldn't understand, He knew Honor drove this one to fight. And they circled.

Their fight began without warning, for the first sudden clash between them was savaging, for a ring of steel against steel and a shower of sparks presented itself as their blades met.

A twist and turn and parry told Him that this Draugr was much faster and more than mildly skilled like the others. And as it swung again, a strike fell true to His advantage and He pierced his foe as a counter-strike. Though the damage seemed minimal, he saw that the Draugr staggered back. He quickly drew his sword off its body before it roared and wildly swung at Him.

After surviving a dodged overhand swing, his counterstrike had caught the Draugr on the arm, but the next swing of the massive sword forced him to jump back. Unfortunately, it was a dodge too late as a hot gash was opened on His chest.

Both now wounded, the pause caused them to circle once again. It shrugged the pain away from its arm as He held one hand against his chest to check the bleeding wound while his other hand held His sword.

Again and again they attacked. Cross guard and blade, strike and parry, the ring of steel on steel, and the roars of battle cries echoed the very cavern like two beasts battling over territory. The flow of combat seemed a natural element to both Him and the Draugr. And as they swung, stabbed, parried and dodged around the great hall, the thunder of the waterfall told them how far the fall was below their very feet, which was a grim counterpoint to the struggle.

Knowing that His body was tiring from the combat, He took his chance.

With a mighty roar, the Draugr swung again. He parried with one sword and gave a counterstrike with the other. His Sword slammed into the chest of the Undead Warrior. Gripping the handle, he lifted the Draugr up from his feet like it was a severed head on a spear, and drove its body against the ground with a loud crack as He roared in effort.

Holding the sword down and breathing heavily, they stared as the Draugr began to embrace death. He watched as the light faded from the mighty beings empty sockets, signing that it is beginning the final passing of a honorable death. A final whisper came forth from the Draugr, **"Unslaad Krosis…." **

He looked to the being's resting place as he removed his sword from its body after it died. Sheathing his sword, He turned and looked about the sanctuary. His eyes once again resting on the fallen beings coffin.

Lifting the fallen foe, he carried its twice dead form back to its final resting place, and gave the final honor due to a true warrior. Sovngard awaited this one.

OOOOO

Slowly the stranger descended into Riverwood. His mind in turmoil from the call, and the word. A word which had no meaning. He had made out with some coin, and a few pieces of old iron armor to protect himself. One of the bandits had been nearly his size. But not quite perfect, he thought as he fiddled with a strap, then banged a gauntleted fist against the ill fitting helm.

Turning into the Riverwood Trader as the first faint blushes of dawn appeared, he was immediately assaulted by another full blown argument between the merchant and his sister.

He steeped to the counter and laid the golden dragons claw upon it. Not waiting for his payment he turned to leave. Hoping to avoid any issues, especially since he did not need the money with what he had looted from the barrow. But that's when the two finally noticed him.

The young woman almost tackled him in a hug, "Oh, Thank you!"

He froze, his mind suddenly burning. His vision turning red.

The shopkeeper whitened as he saw the absolute fury rise to the face of the Stranger. Fingering a dagger on his belt he spoke in a quiet voice, "Sister, let go of the man…"

Looking back into the strangers face, she almost froze in holding onto him. Terrified she slowly backed away until she bumped up against the counter.

The merchant spoke up, "She didn't mean…"

"_Silence."_

The merchant gulped. The daggers wire bound leather hilt cutting into his hand. That was not the voice of a normal person. And as he looked into the burning eyes of the stranger, he could see the struggle taking place in them.

The Oathbreaker couldn't move, his muscles locked tight. The fury he felt at another woman touching him was irrational. He knew this. But it did not change the way he felt now. Staring into their fear bound eyes, their terror of him. He knew he had earned his name. Finally He spun away.

The sudden movement had the merchants dagger out. Only to find it unnecessary, as the Nord burst out of his shop.

"Good riddance." he spoke in a low growl, as he took his younger sister, her face stained with tears, in a comforting hug.


	4. Chapter 3

**Of Ice and Dragons**

**Chapter 3**

**"Born of cold and winter air, And mountain rain combining. **

**This icy force both hard and fair, Has a frozen heart worth mining.**

**So cut through the heart, cold and clear, Strike for Love and strike for fear, **

**See the beauty, sharp and sheer, Split the ice apart! **

**And beware the frozen heart."**

In the kingdom of Arendelle, it was a quiet night for the royals and their peasants, for they slept with ease. However, this was also untrue, for the sky was awake, and one girl couldn't sleep because of that.

In the aurora-lit room, there stood a small bed where one of the royal's children, Elsa, slept with ease.

Soon this would be untrue.

For suddenly, small feet skipped across the floor and her sister, Anna, popped her head from the side of her bed and said, "Elsa? *Pssst*"

Anna used her arms and legs to climb the bed and then say louder, "Elsa?!" As she got on top of Elsa, she started shaking her and spoke with enthusiasm, "Wake-up, wake-up, WAKE-UP!"

A small sigh escaped Elsa's lips and she said with fatigue in her reply, "Anna, go back to sleep…"

Unfortunately, the bright voice of Anna only piped up at the sound of her sisters voice as she lied back on top of her sister, "But I just can't." She swayed her arms over her face dramatically and spoke with the enthusiasm of a younger sibling, "The sky's awake! So I'm awake! So we have to play!"

Elsa spoke with playful irritation as she shoved Anna off her, "Go play by yourself." And the red haired girl was unceremoniously dumped on the floor.

Anna began to pout, but then a sly look crossed Anna's face in realization, and so she shimmied back onto her sisters bed. Forcing her sisters eye open, she tried her newest trick and said nicely, comically drawing out the last word, "Do you want to build a _Snowman_?"

The answering smile was just like her own.

OOOOO

They had trouble keeping quiet as they tried to sneak down to the great hall. If two giggling girls could be said to sneak, but it had made them both keep shushing each other, resulting in giggling all the more.

When they reached the hall, Anna begged, "Do the Magic! Do the Magic!"

And Elsa smiled as she worked her Gift. A small ball of snow floated in front of her as her hands worked on it. When it was ready, Elsa looked to her sister and asked, "Ready?"

And at her Beloved Sisters excited nod, she cast the magic upwards to burst and fall around them as bright snowflakes. Her sister's excited squeal of amazement at every time Elsa used her gift never failed to bring a smile to her face, "This is amazing!"

Elsa began to be more confident and said, "Watch this!"

And with a stomp of her foot, Elsa froze the floor with slick ice. And the two began to think on their original question from earlier.

OOOOO

The glee unleashed in the small indoor snow park would bring a smile to the hardest of faces. Giggles and laughter rebounded of the walls as the girls played, built a snowman, and slid down some packed snow as crystals flaked in perfect harmony around them.

A bounding leap from a snow pile with a cry of 'Catch me!' heralded a new game as a new pile of snow was formed under the flying redheads feet as Elsa replied, "Gotcha!"

At a turn and leap, a new pile formed,

Again and again the Beloved Sister jumped,

The snow coming quicker,

"Anna! Slow Down!" She shouted with worry,

Her warning unheard as her sister jumped again,

Her feet betrayed her, so sure and steady on the ice, She slipped and fell back,

She cried out her sisters name, her hand raised in fear,

Her Gift flew from her hand,

And struck the Beloved Sister.

She scrambled to her feet, and raced to the side of the still form.

"Anna!" Elsa said, scooping her body up she hugged her beloved sister to herself. And she saw a single lock of hair turn white in front of her, her cold form giving no sign of life. Her terrified cry came forth, "Mama! Papa!"

The world around her became covered in frost as she spoke in sorrow and near tears, "You're okay Anna. I got you."

A thud and push made the great door slam open. And the forms of the King and Queen came into the room.

Her face turned up at the sound of her fathers voice, "Elsa!? What have you done? This is getting out of hand!"

"It was an accident! I'm sorry Anna." Elsa said as she looked to her sister.

Her mother took up the form of her sister and said with shock, "She's ice cold!"

A quick thought led back to something the king had learned and said, "I know where we have to go."

OOOOO

They tore through the forest leaving a trail of frost behind them, they raced by a small northern tribe boy of blond hair, who's small sled was pulled by a reindeer calf, and he spoke with wonder at what he saw.

"Ice?" He said with much curiosity

OOOOO

As the royal parents carried the still form of Anna into the center of the Valley, the King called out to the inhabitants of the mystic place, "Please we need your help! It's my daughter."

And a great surration rippled through the air. With a gasp from the quartet, the rocks around them suddenly began to move, and surround them. As each boulder pushed forward and found its position among the others, it unfolded to reveal a most unusual creatures anyone has ever scene.

From above, the blond haired boy looked down on the gathering with wonder, and let loose a startled exclamation, "Trolls?"

Which awakened the rock in front of him, only for it to grab and hold them fast, saying, "Shhh! I'm trying to listen!"

A lick from the reindeer caused the troll to take a closer look at the pair and she said with a loving voice, "Oh, what cuties! I'm gonna keep you!"

A old boulder worn with many years rolled up and unfurled into the one the king sought. "Your Majesty." it said with a bow, taking in the situation at a glance.

He held his hand out to the gifted one, Elsa hesitantly took his hand finding it warm like a humans, as he asked, "Born with the Power or cursed?"

The King spoke quickly, "Born, and they are getting stronger."

The Queen held the limp body forward, and the old Troll looked to the red headed girl and laid a hand worn with ages against her head.

He spoke gravely, "You are lucky it wasn't her heart, the heart is not so easily changed."

He shook his head slightly, holding up a finger, "But, the head can be persuaded."

"Do what you must." said the King

A glow came forth from the troll as he said, "I recommend we remove all magic, even memories of magic, to be safe."

A vision appeared in the air in front of the old Shaman. In which Elsa and Anna were at play, and it changed to show them playing in a field of snow, again and again this scene was repeated. Skating on a lake, sledding on the mountains.

The Old Boulder spoke again, with satisfaction, "But don't worry, I leave the fun." And with a gentle touch he gathered the light in his hand and laid it on the Princesses head. And for the first time since she was struck, Anna stirred. "She will be okay." The elder said with ease.

"But she won't remember I have powers?" Elsa asked

The King than told his daughter, "It's for the best."

The old Troll turned to the Gifted one and said, "Listen to me, Elsa. Your power will only grow."

A wave of his hand and a silhouette of blue people with a figure that she knew was herself in the middle, appeared in the sky above them. "There is beauty in it."

A form in the shape of a snowflake rose above the people from the central figure, "But also great danger." It turned red and Elsa gasped as it burst asunder. "You must learn to control it." The crowed turned red. "For Fear will be your greatest Enemy." And the figure was turned upon by the crowd around it and disappeared.

"No!" said the King, as his eldest daughter buried her face in his coat. "We'll protect her, She can learn to control it, I'm sure. Until then, we will lock the gates, we'll reduce the staff, we'll limit her contact with people, and keep her powers hidden from everyone…"

The Kings eyes held resolve, and great pain.

"Including Anna."

OOOOO

Whiterun.

The river that He was following for five days gave the city it's name, and it had brought him here. Some said that this was 'The Trading Jewel of the North', and what he saw didn't dispute that fact.

As He made his way though the crowds teaming in the streets, he also saw something else. The city walls were in disrepair, and the guards tunics were well worn. If the rumors of heavy taxes were true, then the Jarl was taking steps to shield his people from them. He felt this was a good omen for the task that was given by Hadvar.

The guards at the gates to Dragonsreach stopped him.

"Halt Stranger. What business do you have here in Whiterun?" The guards asked

He spoke in his low voice to the guards, "I bring a request for the Jarl from Alvor of Riverwood. Men are needed to guard the town."

The guards expressions at this was hard, but one of them questioned, "Riverwood is in danger?"

"Yes," He said, "The dragon attack on Helgen has made the townsfolk fearful of the creature."

"You know of the attack, Stranger?" the other guard asked with trepidation in his voice.

The Stranger looked the guard full in the face and removed his battered horned iron helm. He than said gravely, as he stared into the mans eyes, "I was there."

OOOOO

As He approached the end of the great grand hall, he saw a group of advisors surrounding the throne. But before He could proceed forward, He was stopped by a Dun'mer Warrioress, who approached Him with a drawn sword.

He eyed her as she questioned, "Who are you to approach the Jarl of Whiterun?"

He looked at her levelly, and spoke without fear, "I bring word from Alvor of Riverwood for protection and news of Helgen."

Surprised crossed her face as she asked, "Helgen?" she sheathed her drawn weapon and said, "Then approach the Jarl."

He walked on from the Dun'mer and removed his old helmet in a slight bow when present in front of the Jarl. The Jarl looked at the Stranger before him, then the Warrioress whispered a statement that made him look up to the Stranger.

As she stood away, the Jarl said, "So, you bring news of Helgen."

He gave a nod, "Yes. I was there."

The sharp gasp came from the assembled advisors, which expressed the Jarls emotions completely.

The Jarl asked, "Did you see the dragon?"

He nodded, "Yes, a great beast of midnight scales. I had an excellent view of it as the Legion was about to execute me."

The Jarl than noticed the Warrioress' hand twitched to her sword. He waved a hand down to calm her and spoke quietly, "Be at ease, Irileth." She relaxed and did as she was told. He turned to the Stranger and said, "You are quite forthcoming about your criminal past Stranger. Why would you come here?"

He began to explain, "I was asked to. By Alvor of Riverwood. And to pay the last third of my life debt to the Legionnaire Hadvar of Riverwood."

The Jarl leaned back in his throne to consider that statement, and to ponder the other things happening. The Warrioress leaned in and spoke softly to him, "Riverwood is in danger Jarl. The town is lightly manned. I believe 2 platoons should be enough to reinforce them until further attacks occur."

At this point a smallish advisor spoke up to the Jarl and said, "The Jarl of Falkreath will see this as a provocation, Jarl Balgruuf. Should we send troops so close to the border-"

The Jarl held up his hand, interrupting his suggestion. The Jarl than said, "I will not stand idly by while my people are not protected and slaughtered by these creatures. Irileth, send the troops to Riverwood."

A nod and the Warrioress moved off to do his bidding. Then he turned his attention back to the stranger in front of him.

The Jarl said to Him, "You have done me a service here today, Stranger. By what name do you call yourself?"

The hardening of the young mans face told the Jarl much. It held much detail that not even the Jarl could be sure of what he saw. The next sentence however told the older man a great deal more.

The Stranger spoke in a voice like broken glass, looking the Jarl full in the face, "None worth remembering."

With a short bow the Stranger turned to leave, but suddenly, a guardsman out of breath from running rushed into the room past His vision. He suddenly was caught off guard when he heard the guard announce to the Jarl, "My Jarl! Dragon!"

OOOOO

The Great Beast roared as It circled the very city that It was searching for, for It was tracking Its prey all the way to this place. A blast of sound that all in range shrank from, for It knew that his kind's roar was always taken as a warning to all.

The mighty Beast was hunting, and it hunted only One in this city.

Thinking things through, It thought that a little bit of mayhem and chaos might draw that One out of its cowardly cave. It gave another great roar, a challenge to the One it sought.

And than It began Its descent onto Its preys location.

OOOOO

As the roar shook Dragonsreach, the Jarl turned to the Stranger and plead, "I know you don't owe us anything for your services, but you are the only one who actually managed to escape from a Dragon. Will you help us defeat this one?"

The Stranger stared for a long moment at the Jarl, and by way of answer, He placed his battered helm upon his head and in one smooth movement, drew his twin swords from his sheathes and turned away to the main doors.

OOOOO

The dragon set fire to a home of the lower city as it streaked overhead, bringing more screams from Its victims as they were burned alive.

As the dragon went to continue it's path of destruction, a strange presence compelled it to turn back and look at the main gate to the mighty home on the hilltop. And as the lone figure strode out, It knew it had finally found It's Prey. Giving a challenging roar, the dragon ascended into the sky once more to attack from above.

OOOOO

The Stranger saw the dragon turn to the air and fly towards Him.

The first dragon He had faced, he had naught but rags on his back. However this time, he had old steel and iron to protect and aid him in this fight.

'Not much of an improvement.' He thought.

If any had ever suggested to him before that he would challenge a dragon, He would have laughed and asked if this angry fat woman he would be fighting breathed fire too?

As he looked on to track the Beast's progression, The Warrioress rushed up beside him and asked in a hurried voice, "Is It the same one as before?"

He shook his head, "No, this one is of a different color."

He turned to her and spoke, "We need to get it on the ground, as long as its in the air it has too big of an advantage, and We will never be able to reach it while it flies."

A sharp nod came quickly from the Warrioress in understanding and shouted a command to some Guards who had bows, "Archers! Aim in front of It! We need to get it on the ground or it will be the death of us all!"

OOOOO

A very small irritation dotted It's underside as It swooped down again. A roar and blast of fire accompanied It's descent.

However, It felt that something about It's prey was off, but that was no matter to pay attention to. It decided to quickly kill its prey, before it took an opportunity to escape while it still had the chance. Like all **Joor**, it was **Nikrin.**

As It prepared itself to land in the courtyard, a blast of Lightning came up to smash into It's underside, causing a roar of pain, anger, and astonishment, but it didn't bring It down to the ground.

It realized that someone had summoned the strike, and landed a lucky shot. Angrily, It decided to burn this city to the ground. And it would start with It's Prey.

OOOOO

He saw the Jarl's army give their best shot at taking down the beast, but it was all in vain.

The mighty Dragon landed right in front of Him, the very force of its landing alone staggered everyone from their feet. But He had learned since his last encounter of the force of a dragon's landing, so He kept his feet balanced, which resulted The Stranger remaining still as a statue while the others fell.

The Dragon roared at It's Prey and in that same motion, snapped its jaws towards Him. A quick and desperate parry with a dodge told him while the dragon was big, It wasn't at all that strong as He thought It was. He rolled and swung as the snout turned towards him, knocking the dragon back and away.

The others recovered and watched as the Stranger fought the ferocious beast that none would dare face.

The great wing of the dragon snapped out to bar his progress to the right of the beast. And as the head once again came forward, He gave another swing, but this time, He opened a gash in the jaw. A roar of hate and rage came from the dragon and It turned back and opened It's many fanged mouth.

**"YOL"**

He prepared himself when he heard the first word, for He knew that Roar of Power from his earlier encounter.

**"TOR"**

He quickly began to move in the direction that was least expected for the dragon to hit.

**"SHUUL!"**

He barely dodged the blast of Fire, he leapt forward and landed to the side of the dragon's mighty head. Had he been farther away, He would been nothing but ash upon the winds breath.

As He rolled to the side of the head, He slammed a sword into the side of the beasts neck. A shriek of pain and disbelief erupted from the dragon, echoing from the sides of the courtyard to the outer gates of the area. The beast leapt into the air and the Stranger held on to his sword that was embedded deeply into the dragon in an insane bid to stop the beast as it lifted over the wall of the courtyard.

He struck the dragon with his free sword,

A roar of Pain once again erupted from the dragon as a result,

He looked in the beasts great Eye,

He saw the giant silt of the eye grow thinner as if the dragon suddenly realized who He was.

"**Dovahkiin!"**

With a great battle cry, He speared His sword though the Eye and embedded itself into the beasts skull.

After giving a strong twist, the beast began to fall from the sky and slam into a building,

The Stranger ripped away on impact.

OOOOO

Irileth rushed down the hillside to the impact point along with some soldiers as well. As they reached the wreckage of the buildings shattered by the beast's terminated flight, one of the guards asked, "Do you think He survived that house-carl?"

The Warrioress turned to them and said, "I don't know. Search about! The least we can do is give him an honorable burial."

After some searching, a cough and a groan brought one of the soldiers attention to a pile of hay in what used to be a stable for horses. After bringing a few men to help dig, the Stranger sat up a few short moments later. His helm was missing and he clutched a stump of a blade in his hand, the other missing completely his breastplate scratched and dented from the fight and impact, and it barely seemed to hang onto him as well. A wild look was seen in His eyes, the Stranger turned about in search for his foe.

"Relax friend," the guard said as he helped him to his feet, "the beast is dead over there."

With the guardsman's help, He studied the great corpse that was the dragon. Limping over.

As He approached the body, something began to happen.

The townspeople who gathered around, murmured and gasped at the sight,

The body began to burn, yet it didn't radiate any heat.

Tendrils of mist reached for Him and him alone from the dead dragon.

And as the Soul flowed forth from the Dragon, He raised His face to the sky.

His eyes opened wide from feeling something not of this world,

And the hammer blow of Reality struck Him without warning.

And all became dark once more.

OOOOO

_The beloved sister woke, to see her sisters belongings not there. _

_Her parents laying in fitful sleep on both couch and chair. _

_She rushed out into the hall to find her sister, and as she looked to the music room they once shared, _

_She saw her sister look sadly in her direction and they looked to one another and stared, _

_Their gazes locked but for a moment, and the door closed between them, which was very rare,_

_But this door spoke of a silence between sisters that no one could stop if dared._

(final poem by Master T-Rex)

(authors note: I love it, a great addition)


	5. Chapter 4

**Standard Disclaimer: I do not own The Elder Scrolls Skyrim or Frozen. This is a fan fiction writing exercise for my and others enjoyment.**

**Of Ice and Dragons**

**Chapter 4**

_ He strode down the path to his home, with the cool mountain stream flowing beside him as he walked back home. The cottage was just over the next hill he knew. After all, He had built it himself, for him and his wife to live a peaceful and quiet life. As he walked, the path seemed a little steeper than he remembered be fore, rocks and roots exposed from the spring rains earlier. The forest around him seemed to echo with birdsong and the sibilant whisper of the wind between the trees as he felt its breeze. He was happy, content with his lot in life, never having to as for anything more or less to change what he has. And even though he had seen enough of war and the pain that was brought from it, the good he had found in her love made it all worth living and fighting for._

_The sky darkens as he reaches the crest of the hill, but the forest draws silent around him as He smells smoke on the breeze. Fearing the worst, He breaks into a run. His feet stomped and dragging in the wet mud as he tried to hurry as fast as he could. He crests the hill and sees his home in bright flames, bodies surround the glade of his land. With His heart pounding in his chest, He calls her name. He trips but is quickly up again, mud covered, but moving._

_Time flows to a halt._

_He sees her on the burned glade, her body broken and slain. He take's her up in his arms and sees her empty eyes accuse him in a gaze-less stare. He screams to the sky, but then feels the flames burn bright and consume her in his arms. And as the flames consume her, he holds only remnants of her ash._

_He stands upon the road, his anger rising under his breast like a whirlwind. They pause at the sight of him. He charges. Blood flashes from his blade as limbs and inner organs and blood stain the ground upon his feet. As the rage consumes Him, He tears each one apart. A whisper crossed his ears, a blow to his head suddenly flashes his vision and pains his head. He lands on his back due to the collision._

_She stands over him._

_"What Oath did you break?"_

OOOOO

He awoke in a dark room, his breathing heavy from a sudden dream. He soon realizes that He is covered in sweat, for the sleeping clothes he doesn't recognize were sticking to him under the warmth of the blanket.

He removes the covers and stands, and once his feet touched the floor, he begins to move o a covered window, spying dim light around it.

Opening it soon reveals the dim light of dawn floating through the misty fog around the sky. He slowly remembers the battle he partaken in not long ago, for he feels the covered bruises that strain his body of painful movements. They were just aches and pains, but nothing felt broken nor feel out of place.

Suddenly, The door opens and an older maid comes in. She makes her presence known as she says, "Good morning my lord. You've slept for some time since your fight."

He arches an eyebrow in suspicion and he corrects her by saying, "I am no Lord. How long was I asleep?"

The maid gives a grin and says, "Oh, but you are a Lord! The Jarl has declared you, 'The Thane of Whiterun,' in recognition of your Great Battle with the Dragon you faced. And you have also been asleep for two days now."

He rubbed his face, seeing that her words stood true as he felt the growing thickness of his beard.

She interrupts his train of thought as she resumes, "I have new clothes for you to wear, as well as a request from the Jarl to join him in the Great Perch for breakfast."

He rubbed his face in puzzlement this time, thinking back to how she entered the room the moment he was awakened and questioned. "How did you know-"

"When you were going to wake up?" the Maid finished for him. He gave a nod to her words.

She explains as she takes out clothes from the closet, "Our court wizard, Farengar Secret-Fire, attended you while you slept and recovered from some of your injuries. He's very knowledgeable about such things."

He slowly thinks back to the battle as one memory passed his thoughts, that of the lightning that arced up to hit the dragon.

Realizing this, He thanks the maid, and asks her politely to leave so that he can dress away from the eyes of a woman.

OOOOO

The clothes he now wore were new and of fine cloth that felt like silk, yet still simple and comfortable. It also didn't feel right for him to wear such luxuries, for such clothes were to rich for his blood, but he did not question it as he wore them and walked onto the Great Perch.

As he approached, He was immediately spotted by the Jarl and greeted, "Greetings my friend!"

The Jarl stands as He approached the finely laden table. He bows to the Jarl, but is very distracted by the smell of breakfast that held much variety as of choosing such delicacies. The Jarl notices the Strangers attention towards the food and chuckles as he spoke, "Come, sit and eat with me. You must be starving after such long rest."

It was a request He can easily accommodate for his own natural needs, and he tackles the course in front of him after he sits in his seat. Several people He noticed as he entered sat around the table, among them was a big man wearing fur and steel. He sits at least a head taller then the Stranger, guessing to be two heads taller when standing. He nods a greeting to the man, and the man speaks to Him by saying, "My brother," he indicates the Jarl with his free hand, "was just recounting your victory over the dragon that attacked recently.

This was a fine battle that you have won for us. I truly wish that I could have been here to see it for myself!"

He gave a questioning look to the Jarl and The Jarl explained, "My brother, Hrongar, was to the south, for I sent him on a mission with some men that morning to ascertain the state of our border."

His brother, Hrongar continued from there, "When my men and I saw the fire, we returned as quickly as possible to stop the threat." Suddenly, a large grin spread across the muscular mans face and he said, "But you had already taken care of the pest before I even set foot past the gates."

The Stranger smiled, took a bite of food, and spoke in a muffled voice, "Trust me, it was a bit larger than your standard Skeever."

Both men laughed at the joke, when the Jarl recovered somewhat said, "Aye! That'd be True!"

A few moments of chuckling and a new man approached the table, wearing wizardly robes. The Jarl waved a hand to the man and said to the Stranger, "Ah! This is Farengar Secret-Fire, our court wizard."

Due to the Jarl's words, the Stranger nodded a greeting to the wizard but quickly continued to assault his plate.

The wizard looked at him and asked the Stranger, "If you don't mind, I would like to ask you about the strange aura that you had upon your person. I discovered it while attending you while you slept. It seemed very strange. Have you come across anything magical lately?"

"Farengar.." the Jarl chided him, "let the man eat, he just fought a dragon!"

The Stranger spoke around a hot mouthfull of food, "I found a strange wall recently. It… was very strange…" The Stranger looked to the wizard after swallowing his food and said, "I found it in Bleak Falls Barrow, while chasing a thief who's stole something from a shop owner before I arrived."

"Why were you chasing a thief?" the Jarl questioned, the Stranger nodded at the question and Began to tell the story from then to his Fight with the Guardian.

OOOOO

All three men looked at the young man in front of them, each one of them processed His story.

The Jarl was the first to speak, "My friend, you have done more then I can ever repay you for when you slayed the dragon and saved the city. But I must ask this; What happened afterwards?"

The Stranger stopped eating for a moment and stared at his plate, when he spoke it was in a voice just above a whisper but was easily heard by the others, "I…took-no, I... absorbed….something... from it."

The Jarl nodded while his Brother leaned forwards to speak to Him, saying, "My friend, you took the dragon's soul. Just like the hero's of the old stories we once heard."

The bigger man looks out over the plains and said with wonder, "I wonder if the old tales have some truth to them after all these years."

Farengar speaks up at this, "Most legends have a kernel of truth. But it usually is not the truth told in the legend."

The Big Man nods and turns to the stranger who has continued eating and said to Him, "The old legends speak of the ability to Shout. To raise ones voice and cause something to happen that no one else can change."

He trails off as he sees the face of the Thane go blank. The Big Man looks to Him and asks, "Can you?"

He didn't know what to say. The myth of a man's ability to Shout was not something he could ever think to do, and He doubtingly said, "I don't know."

The Jarl looks to the Stranger and said to him, "You wont know until you try, my friend."

He nods, knowing that their support and the knowledge of absorbing the dragon's soul made him question if he could achieve the Shout. He stands and moves to the edge of the Great Perch, overlooking the grass-like farmlands of Whiterun.

He thinks on it and realizes something. A word which had no Meaning, a word of Power. It rings through him as a completion is made deep within him.

He draws a deep breath as He feels the Shout complete him. He shout's the first syllable...

**"FUS"**

...But that is not all of it He finds, as he shout's the second syllable...

**"RO"**

...A rumble begins under his very breast, feeling the word be complete as he shouts the final syllable...

**"DAH!"**

And the thunderclap that is his voice bends Reality in front of him.

The Unrelenting Force of his Shout slams out into the open air, shaking the ground, and bending the wind's in one direction.

His Shout echoes past the city to the valleys and beyond until neither Him nor the others hear the echoes of it's powerful thunderclap.

The first thing He notices when he looks back is the awed stares of the men at the table, now aware that he CAN Shout. The second was that its obvious that the thundering clap of his Shout woke up the guards, and they quickly piled into the room with drawn weapons.

He watches the Warrioress rush over to the Jarl and quickly asks, "My Jarl! What's happened?"

Her call does not register on the stunned man for a moment, then he finally turns to her and patiently explained, "The Thane just demonstrated what he took from the dragon." Her confused look prompted him to explain. The Jarl gave an amused smile and said, "We asked Him to Shout and Shout he did."

The Big man looks to the wizard who is still in shock, then turns to the Stranger and says to Him, "If you can Shout, and steal the souls of dragons, then the Old Legends do indeed speak of Truth. And that would mean you are-…"

A rumble rolls forth from the mountains, silencing the Big Man of any voice he had.

The quintet look puzzled from this.

It is a building storm of sound.

The blast rolls over them and they hear a great a echo boom over the thunder.

**"DovAhKiin!"**

The others turned with the others to stare at the Mighty Mountain in the distance. The largest peak in all of Tamriel, for such a mountain was named 'The Throat of the World.'

It was the home of those who have called.

And he finishes his sentence in an awed whisper,

the translation of the Summons of the Greybeards,

_"Dragonborn."_

OOOOO

"My friend, I envy you. To be summoned by the Greybeards themselves is something that I always wanted to know." The Jarl said and then shook his head, getting back to the subject at hand.

"I once traveled the seven thousand steps before myself, but you will meet them unlike the others that sought their audience." The Jarl said as a smile crossed his face. The Jarl lead the Dovahkiin down through the city himself and said, "Besides, I cannot let you go so inadequately dressed."

He nodded, knowing that the fine clothes he wore won't be enough for what was to come. They approached what looked to be a large stone bird carved into the bedrock of the hill. A large man with dense gray hair bowed to his Jarl, "My Greetings, Jarl Balgruuf. How can I serve you today?"

The Jarl asks, "Eorlund, my friend here needs some new armor." A smile crossed the Jarls face, "and I want it to be the best Master Graymane."

The Smith turns to the Thane and says with recognition, "Ah! The mighty Thane! Many thanks to you for saving our city."

The Smith sees the man was uncomfortable with the praise. And he chuckles, but then turns serious and turns back to the Jarl and asks, "Is he the…?"

The Jarl said, "Yes old friend."

A look of surprise followed closely by a bow to the Stranger, as the old smith spoke, "It would be my Honor to Equip the Dovahkiin."

OOOOO

She looks to the snow outside, which was always reveled through her oddly shaped window as a bright fall of white across the land. She brushes a strand of her ivory hair out of her eyes as they got int he way of her view. The natural passing of seasons had once again come to winter, a perfect counterpart to her mood as of late. She sighs, and looks away from her window to continue with her studies, a lone book of the many in her room that she must read in her studies.

A voice and a knock on the door disrupt her from her concentration on her studies. She knows who it was long before her sister spoke after knocking. Fear quickly grips her heart, for she cannot answer the begging of her Beloved Sister.

Due to her fear, the temperature in the room plummets as she sees her own breath in the air and panics. She must control her power, she can't hurt her Sister again! She casts her eyes about, wondering that maybe if she stays silent, her sister will stop trying to interact with her.

The calling continues, and she finally answers sharply, "Go away Anna!"

She hears the heartbroken tone of her sister through the door, "Oh, okay... bye."

Knowing that she sent her Sister is away, she brings her knees to her chest, hugging her arms around them as frost grows on the book she reads and the seat she sat on.

OOOOO

She watches from her window as her Sister plays outside in the snow. Her heart was forever torn at the rebuffing she has given her due to her curse. Several times now, Anna has attempted to get her to play. But she cannot, for staying away is the only way to protect her.

She leans against the sill and sighs as she places her hands upon it, frost springs up around them. She jumps back, her heart pounding in her chest.

Her thoughts quickly went to how her loss of control could hurt her Sister. What if she touched her? What if she touched anyone? The questions rang through her mind like a bells peal. And she didn't like to think of the answer as a pleasant one.

She runs from her room. Every step she took and everything she touched, Frost grew from her hands. This only encouraged her to run faster for the safety of her father.

She opens the door to her fathers study, the latch completely frosting over. Her father turns to see the sudden noise to see her daughter tearing and under distress. She runs to her Father but stops well short of him. Not wanting to hurt her father and says in panic, "Papa, I…"

Strangely, she couldn't speak any more words and just sobbed her eyes pleading.

Her fathers deep voice a reassurance to her as he went to face her and got on a knee,. "It's okay Elsa. Now what has happened…"

He overlooks her to see the knob and the area around it, and from there down the hallway where much of the frost has stopped growing and settled in large icy patches. He looks to his Eldest Daughter and the way she stands, holding her hands under her arms, her panic growing upon her face.

Slowly, he begins to understand why she was acting like this, "Oh…"

OOOOO

It did not take long for him to find what he needed, and he returned to his study quickly to aid his Daughter. He sees the frost on the rooms items while he was gone, slowly growing unintentionally.

He stopped just inside the threshold and spoke softly, "Elsa?"

Though stuffy eyes, she looks at him with her fear evident on her face. He moves in front of her and goes on one knee to be at eye level with her. He holds out a small pair of gloves and says, "Here, put these on." With her father's help, she tentatively put them on, and he holds her hand.

He gives her a reassuring smile and says,

"See? The gloves will help. Just remember; conceal it."

"Don't Feel It." Elsa said after him,

Then they both say to one another, "Don't let it show."

And as a small smile formed on her lips she held her fathers hands without fear. The frost around them melted away in the wind that was not there.

OOOOO

The Smith swung the hammer, and sparks rose from one heavy blow after another. He marveled at the interplay of lights along the steel, for it always amazed him what came from the Skyforge.

But the newest marvel wasn't the steel that he struck, or the chest plate near completion.

No, the marvel that he saw before was none other than the young Thane Himself.

The younger man had stripped shirtless of the luxurious cloth to help him with the forging, and as he saw the scars on his body, he wondered how much experience this man had endured to earn such scars. The Thane also didn't have to be told what to do, and that told the Smith much about his skill as a blacksmith.

Deep in the forge, where the embers burn and give off the glow of their labor, the sweat drips off both of their brows and strengthens their backs as the fires were pumped by the Thane and Eorlund crafted the weapons and armor with the skills of an artist. The Thane held the piece they were shaping in the fires, and it seemed to the Smith that the forge was alive with power with both of them breathing in life into their work.

Taking the piece out and they both began an ancient cooperative method of hammering steel. This method is only performed when there is more than one blacksmith, where after one swings a hammer down, that person's hammer is removed and the piece is quickly hammered by another, and the process repeats until the metal is shaped as they wished. Both crafters have to alter blows as if they had worked their lives together.

And for the two of them, they did.

The Smith knew that this was the magic of the forge, and he smiled as they worked. Creating one of the most marvelous armors the Skyforge has ever created.

Molten metal glowed white hot as they worked the steel around the bones of the Dragon the Thane had slew single-handedly. Although, Eorlund noted that The Thane seemed almost in a trance from the work. And the Smith believed that he was seeing His past deep within the forge's embers.

OOOOO

_ His forge glowed in front of Him, a ruddy pile of coals burning due to their recent use over His work. He pulled the glowing steel from the smelt and began to work it into what he wanted. He matched the broken form of the latch in front of him to the white hot bit he held. A few more strikes and a dunk in the bucket showed him the task was completed and that it was ready. It pleased him that the piece was done and done well._

_The older farmer that required his services for such a task thanked Him profusely as he handed the piece off. And a few coins changed hands._

_He returned to the cabin he called home and She smiled at him, awaiting for him to come back in her arms. He could not help but smile back. After a small intimate moment, he took a quick dunk of himself in the stream to cool and wash off. He could smell the dinner in the breeze._

_For being skilled in archery that could feat any archer in rivalry, He wondered how was it that she was able to cook food better than anything else he tasted. As he thanked her for preparing such a lovely dinner and sat down, She wrapped her arms around him as he felt her hands graze his shoulders and chest and then wrap around in his neck in a lovely hug._

_And her eyes grew dark in the light of sunset. And she asked him with a voice he didn't recognize as her own..._

_"WHAT OATH DID YOU GIVE TO ME?"_

OOOOO

He woke again in cold sweat. The Phrase he had heard Her say to him in his dream echoed through him. He stumbled out of the bed and went to a washbasin and dunked his face into the clear cold water.

He sighed, for he did not understand the question. And his thoughts went back to when he put up his sword.

On his knees, He closed his eyes to beg for her forgiveness.

Today, He is to began his journey to the Mountain of the Greybeards, to answer their summons. He opened the window to let in the early morning light.

And turned to his new armor. He marveled at what the Smith and He had wrought with both o their skills, for it was the finest Battle Plate He had ever Seen.

The Armor before him was Skyforged Dragonplate. The very bones of the dragon were incorporated and welded perfectly into the steel. It looked like any normal steel plate, until you got closer. The simple Helm had nose and eye guards, and twin dragon horns descending from the sides of the Helm. The chest piece was a simple plate of steel, but with dragon bone and scale trim. And set into the center buckle was a stylized image of a dragon in flight. It's straps were wrapped around a leather vest for comfort and protection from the straps squeezing the skin when the straps meet behind the wearers back. The right strap held up a piece of shoulder armor on the right shoulder. There was also a leather belt, thigh straps for both the front and back, forearm leather and metal guards and the same was with the boots to protect the body. Incased inside the leather was wolf fur so that the wearer will remain warm from the cold, removable for the summers heat. Not to be outdone were his new swords, shining steel with the shape of dragons etched into the blades, and more dragon bone and scale trim.

And for all its simplicity, this was probably the best piece of armor he had ever seen.

After slowly fitting the armor on himself, tensioning and adjusting the fit slightly, he sheathed his swords and went to speak with the Jarl.

OOOOO

When the Thane stepped into the Great hall wearing the new armor, the Jarl could not help but think that this was how the Dovahkiin should look, wearing strong armor from the very bones of the dragons that he alone slays. All talk ceased as the Thane stepped forward to the throne. All eyes from the small gathering upon him. The Thane slowly removed his helm and took a knee.

The Jarl waved off his respecting bow like it wasn't really necessary. Standing the jarl and stepped down to give the younger man a proper and respectful farewell.

The Jarl said to The Dovahkiin as they clasped arms, "My friend, Safe Journey to you."

He nodded and said respectfully, "My thanks, Jarl Balgruuf."


	6. Chapter 5

**Of Ice and Dragons**

**Chapter 5**

_He stands atop a hillside, the rain falling about Him in heavily pelleted sheets that such rain could be compared to the sound and feeling of their enemies' arrows hitting their very bodies. His men stood behind him; thieves, murderers, cutthroats, mercenaries, rapists, all the scum of the land. They were a group no sane man would ever lead into battle, and that was why He trusted His life to them. And they in turn trusted Him for standing beside them._

_Honor, it was called._

_As of now, The Battle to The North was not going as well as they had hoped. He could hear the screams of the fallen, both man and mer, echoed in the wind. And even though the rain deadened and voided all sound, these types of screams told him that the battle was now beyond any control they hoped to get back. What had been a limited engagement was now a maelstrom of violence, sucking in men and spitting dead bodies out like a glutton during the dinner table. And he and his men were the only chance to divert attention from the field. It was the only way to stop the flow of reinforcements and give them a chance to regroup and fight back. This didn't involve winning, there wasn't a chance of that now but to at least disengage, without the battle turning into a rout._

_He and His men moved forwards in formation to the crossroads ahead, known to many travelers that take this path as the Crossing of Seven Lanes. He knelt on one knee to examine what little He could from the mud. To His side, an Argonian tracker knelt beside Him and spoke, "Not much to find here. The rain has sucked the life out of these tracks."_

_He gave a nod in understanding to the lizardman and stood up to address His legionnaires._

_But before He could speak a word over the loud rain, He suddenly heard a whistle, than a sharp thump. He is spun around by the force of the blow and sees the ambush for the first time. He quickly turned to see that a crossbow bolt sticking out of his back shoulder. He yells to his men a warning, and draws his swords._

_Arrows and bolts fill the air as He charges forward, the bolt in his shoulder luckily stopped by his armor and causing little irritation during this conflict. He moves with a silent grace, and crosses to the first bowman before that said bowman had time to reload another bolt. His men charge behind him. Each yelled together a war cry, but He alone was silent. Just as Death silently reaps the souls from their former bodies._

_In their aftermath, He discovers that they accidentally crossed close to the enemies camp site, and among the camps was a jailed cart attached to a strong horse. Braking the lock Himself with His sword, He opens the unlocked door to find something unexpected._

_He finds a young woman, wearing the armor of a high rank legionnaire, kneeling on the side of the cart as Her hands were tied behind Her back, showing that She was a prisoner of the Dominion. Her eyes are blindfolded, Her hair a mass of mud to hinder Him from seeing the color. He cuts Her binds, only for Her to catch Him off guard as She quickly spun around and put His knife from His belt to His throat._

_It was sudden and He didn't have time to react, but His shock stilled Him as She pulled off Her blindfold to reveal Her eyes, and His world stops completely. The woman's eyes were blue in a way He cannot describe. A shade that was nearly impossible to compare them to save the deepest blue of oceans._

OOOOO

_Her very first instinct was to slit His throat and run away to escape, but His eyes stilled Her. A unique shade of green and gold, unlike any She has ever seen before. After realizing that She was hesitating, She looks to His uniform, then looks back to His eyes. _

_He was the first to break their silence to Her unspoken question, "I am of the Legion."_

_She looks to Him and with a nudge of Her dagger, She gets Him to stand up with Her, than She spoke, Her voice a chime of clarity in the rains, "Which One?"_

_He said gravely, "509th"_

_Her eyes widen as she registers the men outside Her cell, armed and looking inside as to what is going on. A sharp bark from Her told them to them to hold fast, and when they didn't and began to draw their blades, She digs the blade deeper to His neck, and they freeze._

_She began interrogating, "And what would a penal battalion be doing out here?"_

_He looks Her in the eyes, and His face hardened as He told Her, "Drawing attention."_

_Her blade is drawing a small drop of blood but He makes no movement to Her knife. She comes to a decision as She asked, "What is your name?"_

_A Redguard Legionnaire from outside Her cell laughs an answer, "In our company, we have no names, and even if we did, our names aren't worth remembering." When She took this in was when everything quickly made sense, and once again She grows ice cold from learning this._

_She knows of them. A bare company of legionnaires, known among the forces as 'The Best of the Worst,' and the tradition was that they took on no name until they had served their term of punishment, which often ended in a death sentence. They took none but those who bound themselves to the company in the name of honor. And as She knew whom She had on the point of her blade, She realized He could kill Her without coming to harm Himself in half, if a quarter of the stories were true, even with Her blade at his neck._

_Well, it was HIS blade that She held at His neck. She practically stole it from him._

_She withdraws the blade but kept it as She left the cart into the rain. They all watched as She knelt beside a dead archer to scoop up a bow and quiver, and He makes no move to stop Her from arming herself. When She retrieved the arrows and tested the bow, She looks to Him and asks, "So, what's the plan?"_

_The reply is something She expected of a death squad, "Hold the Crossroads until reinforcements arrive."_

_She nocks an arrow to the bow and said, "Then lets get to it."_

_He wasn't complaining, He needed all the help he could get._

_He commands the company to take positions around the crossing. As His men began to form their defense for their stand, She moves by His side and He turns to Her, thinking of a strategy where He could put an archer, "If you wish take the north-east road, it will lead you away from the fighting and to the rear. It should give you an opening to pick out other archers or spellcasters."_

_She huffs at this and retorts back, "And leave you and your motley band here to run off? I don't think so."_

_The sharp looks She got from the surrounding criminals told Her that She was right in Her assessment of them. But if She was right, She had just pinned them here until either reinforcements arrive or they themselves would be wiped off the face of this land. She looked to the Capitan of these men, only to find Him looking hard at Her. In His eyes, She sees His understanding of the challenge She has thrown at Him, and with a ring of steel he draws His twin swords, ordering His men to hold their positions to the last man._

OOOOO

_He runs through the last of the elves with a single strike. Knowing that they were dead, He surveys the enemies around Him. He began to realize just how bad things got, for half the men He started out with are dead and the half that He was left with had wounds from minor to crippling, broken bones and carved limbs. They just didn't have the strength in numbers to repel them for the next attack. He himself had only sustained a minor wound that stung His face; a gash was cut down the side of His jaw, which stung openly to the blowing wind and in the cold rain. He looks to the Archer; Her hair has now washed out slightly by the rain, for Her dark blond strands showed through the muck that tainted them. He has never seen such skill with the bow before as well. She is also wounded, a small gash on Her leg running blood into the mud of the road, though She is not impeded by it._

_They were now surrounded, but their group was buying the time so desperately needed for the main force to regroup and push back. If they are lucky, the Legion would began its assault soon and some of them, if not all of them, would walk away from this. He could see the mer lining up for another assault upon their position; His company had put up some makeshift earthworks around them to hinder the enemy._

_Deep within His gut, He knew this will be their last stand, their last chance to reclaim the honor they deserved. He climbed over their defense and sees the mer's forces advancing on them at a slow march. He turn's to His comrades, standing over the cold heavy rain that soaked their clothes and chilled their very bones, and He roared out over the sound of rain hitting the red mud..._

_"Legionnaires! The enemies forces surrounds us at every turn, their intentions plainly sought to end our lives and conquer these very crossroads! We may be outnumbered, outmatched, and already one foot in our own graves, but that does not give us a reason to lie down like dogs and be slaughtered like pigs! If we are to die on this very crossroads, know that we die together as honored Shield-brothers in arms; die knowing that we did what others could not; die knowing that we never turned our backs to those who did to us; die knowing that we gave the strength of our backs, the sweat of our brows, the blood in our veins, and the courage in our hearts to protect those that stand idle as cowards and hypocrites! They may never remember our names, but they will remember the valor and honor we possess for generations to come, as will as those who sing in honor of our sacrifice when we pass from this life!"_

_He raised his sword above his head and roared, "Our true home awaits us my brothers! I stand ready fight, to Sovengarde I come! Do you stand with me?!"_

_Those that remained of the 509th roared the thunderous shout of affirmation around Him, which said everything He needed to hear. He sees Her looking at Him, and not only did She understand what is about to happen, but She saw what these men are going through and what they would do to protect those that don't deserve honor, just like themselves. She nocks an arrow into Her bow and nods Her readiness to give Her life like the men before Her. As He sees the charge coming He roars an ancient battle cry of honor, old as Saint Alessia who was gifted by Akatosh. Echoed by the men and women, mer and beast folk, the ones whom he served with._

_**"For the Empire!"**_

_The titanic clash of men and steel finally met. Even as His company was outnumbered thirty to one, each Legionnaire fought with a ferocity born of desperation and sheer skill of fighting. His own swords reaped a path through the Dominion soldiers as Death reaped souls from the body with his scythe. He heard the musical twang of Her bow behind him as arrow after arrow expertly slammed into the ranks around him, providing covering fire for Him and what remained of his men._

_The shear press of the bodies of their enemies, both dead and alive, was forcing them back into a tight circle of the 509th's last stand. However, He was separated from His men and with no one to cover Him from His enemies, He became a whirling deverish of steel against flesh. A blow parried, a mer's throat cut, another's limb severed. It became a raging mass of blood and battle..._

_...but He was tiring..._

OOOOO

_She held her ground, shooting at their attackers from a distance and up close with the stolen knife when they were blocking Her view. Suddenly, She could see Him cut off from the rest of the group, but the others couldn't get to Him to defend Him from them. She saw the explosion of movement, as the area around Him suddenly seemed to turn into a frothing maw of blood and steel. Any who stood against Him were cut down in a perfect blow with a demonstration of swordsmanship the likes She had never seen before. She raised Her bow which sang out as She loosed another arrow into the seething mob before Her, driving back the killing blow aimed at the Legionnaire in front of Her._

_A clash of steel behind Her whipped Her head around, thinking the flank had finally been sundered. But beyond was a sight that made Her smile, as the sight of grey steel and the sound of the Horns of the Legion brought a wave of relief upon Her face._

OOOOO

_The ring of steel and the roar of battle surrounded Him. He parries and blocks, but He notices that His ability to fight was growing slower and weaker, and He dreadfully realizes that He is tiring, and that it is only a matter of time before He gave in. Another swing was parried, but He is no longer moving fast enough to take advantage of the wild swings of their swords at Him. His arms began to feel leaden as His swords became more heavy. His breath comes in short gasps as the armor He wore felt heavy and wet, which made it stick to his body as movement became more difficult._

_And He feels a hot line strike across the back of His leg. His roar of pain was heard through the rain by all._

OOOOO

_The Legion gave them time to recover as they started to push back. She hears His roar of pain and turns quickly to see Him go down to a knee as his leg is gashed open, She sees His sword strike out and remove the head of the attacker that gave him that wound. She knew the Legion is here now, pushing the Dominion soldiers back to get to Him and the 509th. Even though there is a good chance ego save the 509th, it won't be enough to save Him in time. She sees the blow from another parried. Trying to help Him, She looses another arrow into the melee around Him._

OOOOO

_He somehow regains the strength to get back on His feet, but the wound has run deep, and His leg does not want to support His weight in fear of suffering through more pain. A barely parried blow, and He sees the gilded soldier that gave that strike. This golden warrior in front of Him is much better than any He has faced in this battle, proving that this foe's skill could match His own. A smooth block and counterstrike, each blow smoothly parried by His enemy, while He has to desperately command His arms to turn the slightest blow._

_He sees the soldiers around Him move away from the Gilded One's battle against Him, forming a rough circle outside the reach of His weapons. He is now free to concentrate fully on the gilded soldier in front of Him. A parry and counterstrike and one of His swords rang out against the shield of the other. They circled, each sword stroke and block, forcing each to move to the left. And even though battle raged about them, the fury of the strikes pushed all senses of the world around Him away. A flash of dark armor caught His gaze and He knew instantly that the Legion had finally joined the battle. More and more, He and the Gilded One desperately tried to finish the other off, and then His leg betrayed Him._

_She sees Him drop, His leg folding under,_

_As His leg gave in to its sunder._

_She sees the look of resignation upon His face,_

_With great precision, She raised Her bow and took aim._

_He sees the sword coming, He cannot block nor parry it, His arms out of position,_

_As the sword digs into His chest, He looks into the face of His masked-helmed killer, who _

_remained silent in the roar of battle,_

_He feels the blade began to slip between His ribs as the pain of steel entered Him,_

_The Arrow flashes over His head, To embed itself into the Gilded Ones Helm,_

_For it's mark hit true._

_The hammering blow tilts the Mer off his feet._

_The sword is pulled from His chest, the grip of the Gilded One pulling it away as His fallen enemy hit the muddy peat._

_He falls back into the mud and sees Her eyes as His body began to grow tired and limp,_

_His blood spilling unto the ground with those that have fallen, both ally and enemy._

_As darkness finally consumed Him._

OOOOO

He slowly woke up in His camp. Based on how the camp is positioned, He realizes that He is upon a craggy hillside as dawns light filtering through the clouds and it's light peeked through the rocky entrance of the camp.

The memory of their first meeting was fresh upon Him. She had saved His life that day. And after His recovery, He would always remember the look upon Her face when the general had given Her the Title, "Hero of the Seven Crossings". She had never liked the fact that His Company had held down most of the defensive front, and most had died trying, and yet She had gotten the credit.

He couldn't blame Her, for She wasn't like them; She had a name, they didn't; She will be remembered, they will fade from memory; Her life will be meaningful, no one will care about a legion of criminals who sacrificed their lives. It was also simply because they were the death squad of the penal Battalion 509th. She had gotten Him pardoned though, along with the other survivors who survived their stand. And He remembered their first meeting after the battle…

OOOOO

_He feels numb and cold to the darkness surrounding Him and wonders if He is dead. He than wonders that if He is dead, then the darkness surrounding him must have been purgatory or some form of hell. The realization crashed into Him with much shock. Had He failed so badly as to never be even allowed the chance to face the Great Test? The thought of such a dishonor upon him, chilled him in ways He could not imagine._

_But slowly, He sees light from the darkness, only to discover that this light was actually natural light peering through His eyes. Seeing that He was not dead, He slowly opens His eyes to discover pain, life, and He is lying down in one of the many Legion's camps._

_As He awoke, He felt a fire in His chest, a raw pain the told Him his wound was packed with healing salves and herbs. As His eyes opened more to look around the tent, He slowly rose himself up to see He was alone. The small tent was perfectly clean and arranged. He could hear the bustle of camp about Him from the outside._

_But He was confused; He was of the 509th, even at His rank, no penal battalion assigned legionnaire would have a private tent, let alone be healed from His wounds. He moved to swing His legs over the side of the bed and was instantly reminded of the wound on His leg. He looked at it to see that it too was bandaged like His chest. The wrappings were clean and dirt free. His confusion mounted, rarely it was leftover rags that He and His troops got, if nothing at all. He carefully swung His legs to the floor of the tent. He carefully stands, His leg is weak from battle, but still held Him with no problems. He looks around but does not see His armor or His swords, but there is a fresh soldiers tunic on the stand beside Him. He puts it on and hobbles to the flap, his leg refusing to obey most of his commands._

_He opens the flap to see two legionnaires standing guard and the full size of the encampment around Him, telling of the impending battles to come. The legionnaire to His left salutes with a fist to heart, "Captain, the general awaits you inside his tent."_

_The legionnaire nods to a much larger tent across the 'street'. He looks around and sees that He is in the officers quarters of the field army. He is once again confused, the soldier should know who He is, and there is only one way for Him to be pardoned, and by the nine, He would bet His life that the emperor would never grant such a pardon._

_He limps across the street, men making respectful way before Him. As He got close, He is announced into the general's tent. The first thing He sees as he enters is Her, those same blue eyes that capturing His undivided attention for merely a moment. He looks to the other and immediately Salutes, Fist to heart. For he was in the presence of High General _

_Markus Aurellius. Second only to the emperor himself in war._

_The grey haired man stands and looks to the legionnaire. A slow steady gaze takes in the man before him._

_The High General finally spoke, "You are pardoned Legionnaire, but only for one reason. If you have not saved the life of my Daughter, you wouldn't stand where you are now."_

_Suddenly, He no longer felt pain, but the shock that shook Him to His core._

OOOOO

He looked into the sun, the top crest peeking over the mountains as His thought went adrift. He knew that beyond the titles and rescue of The High General's Daughter, the man had never forgiven Him for His previous actions. The time he had disobeyed, and His subsequent… reassignment.

That old man would never have pardoned Him if the decision was up to him. Of course, he cursed Him on their wedding day as well, which occurred after the war.

He shakes His head as He attempts to find a new train of thought, but cannot. They hadn't even had a year. And now, He stares at the sun. Time was but a window to Him, and He is but ice again as He remembers their last day together.

OOOOO

_He kisses Her goodbye as He prepares himself to go to the nearby village that required His services. She smiles and gives Her customary farewell, "Be safe, My love."_

_Another kiss as He promised, "I will."_

OOOOO

Elsa paced back and forth in her room, her gloved hands tucked away under her arms. Her platinum hair, tucked away in a single braid. Her studies long forgotten. She looks to the wall that held the rime of frost about it, and the air grows colder still. She looks to her mother and father, and holds her hands out as frost grows on the wall behind her as she is near tears. She held out her hands and exclaimed, "I'm scared! It's getting stronger!"

The King speaks in a calm voice, as her worried mother looks on, "Getting upset only makes it worse. Calm down-"

As he reaches out to her, she flinches back, and steps away "NO! Don't touch me!... Please..." she looks to her mother, who's hands are covering her mouth. And her father whose face shows only pain. And She speaks again "I don't want to hurt you."

Very quickly, they began to realize that her incidents are getting worse, and it got to the point where they are afraid to touch their own daughter...

...and Elsa in turn became afraid to touch them...

OOOOO

Elsa remembered the old Trolls warning, as to how fear would become her enemy, and Elsa couldn't imagine how the people outside the castle would react to her curse, or rather how she would if her curse was ever revealed. The very walls of her room was her only sanctuary to the outside, but it was also like a cage, where her powers made her a prisoner.

Her room was a tangled mess of ice crystals and frost as snow flakes hovered in the cold air. She hurried over to the fireplace and stoked it as fast as possible. She berated herself for falling asleep on her books for so long again. Who knows how much damage she had done this time to her family. She looked on as the frost melted in the heat, leaving wet traces behind.

She pulled on her gloves to the tightest of their ability. She looked at them with forlorn hope. She wished she could learn to control this... this Curse... She remembered her mother and father's faces when she had forbidden them from touching her. And as she sat down in her chair, she stared at her covered hands as such foolish ambition to control what couldn't be controlled proved just how much of a fool she was.

From then on, she dreaded the days when she had to remove her gloves, for fear was her enemy.

OOOOO

That was now four dragons. The first came onto the streets of Whiterun, which had knocked Him out for two days. The second had forced Him to make camp early. The third had only disoriented Him for but a few moments. The forth one, a mighty beast of grey and orange stripes had made Him feel powerful after it was slain.

He looked about at the townsmen creeping out of the buildings of Ivarstead, at the base of the Mighty Mountain. The beginning of the seven thousand steps to High Hrothgar. He heard the whispers of the guardsmen, the chatter of the townspeople. He went over to the horse that had carried him this far, its mangled body was a mute testament to the ferocity of the Dragon.

Again and again, He had taken these mighty beasts down in the only way He knows how; Get them to land, get close, then jump on them to kill Them. He had to admit though, the landings weren't getting any easier. He once thought of using a bow to get them down, but the dragons move too fast and he wasn't very skilled in archery. He stretched to work the kinks from the hard fall out and retrieved what few supplies he had left in the saddlebags. He was interrupted by a guardsman's approach... "By the Nine, You are the Dragonborn! The Dovahkiin! The one summoned by the greybeards!"

He had somewhat gotten used to the name now, as each dragon had attacked around other people. And all had heard the summons from the Throat of the World. He decided to reply to the man, "I am." and a rumble seemed to roil in the distance.

OOOOO

He ascended the seven thousand steps, the steep trail winding ever upward. He replayed the conversations over in His minds eye. Every time He had spoken, the townsmen had flinched at the distant rumble. He couldn't be sure, but He thought it was His voice that was causing it. It was strange to think that His voice caused such a problem, but it was one more question He needed to ask those who summoned Him.

He looked ahead to the saddle of the pass He was obviously following, and froze. For before Him, blocking the path, was both a fortress and a monastery. High Hrothgar, His destination.

OOOOO

He was greeted at the door by an old man, who locked eyes with Him. It was a scrutinizing gaze, one which commanded respect. The older man beckoned Him in and opened the large bronze door. They marched together in silence through the halls of the fortress. And He looked about at His surroundings, there was dark but great architecture from within the palace. He learned that there wasn't much in the way of decoration here. A few small potted plants bearing fruit and berries. Some candles glowing in the dark. Some tapestries with marking similar to those on the wall in Bleak Falls Barrow.

He somehow knew what they said.

"Breath and Focus." He read off one, and the Greybeard guiding him stopped and then turned to look at him, which was the first clue he had of speaking out loud. The second was the distant rumble that came after he said that. The mans eyes had widened slightly, and he bowed to the Stranger. He then turned and quickly led the Stranger to a main central room and rang a small bell three times.

One by one, other men with long beards and hard faces moved into the room. He noticed his guide using hand signals to the others and sharp looks being directed at Him. When the fourth and last man came in, he approached the Stranger directly and spoke in a voice that didn't see much use. "Greetings to you. I am Master Arngeir. And who are you?"

He hesitates but ultimately decides on the truth, "I have no name now. I lost my right to be remembered by it."

The older men are surprised by this revelation, and after a look to the others, Master Arngeir speaks again "Very well, why have you come here Stranger?"

He spoke truth, "I was summoned."

"And do you know what prompted this summons?" Master Arngeir asked

He looks at the older man and locks gaze with him as he spoke, "I slew a dragon, took its soul. And learned how to shout from it."

The older mans nod tells Him this test is far from over. He points to a space in front of Him, an open rectangle too the sky above it.

Master Arngeir asked, "If you would please, demonstrate this Shout to the sky?"

He steps forward and prepares Himself.

A deep breath in, He tilts his head back to the open sky.

And He feels the power respond within Him.

**"FUS"**

The word bends the fabric of reality

**"RO"**

The Power of the words floods through Him, and He was certain that they are more than what they were before.

**"DAH!"**

And the blast crushes forth, ripping part of the skylight away with it.

He lowers his gaze back to the men in front of him, and all look quite shocked at the pulse of sound. Finally, Master Arngeir speaks again, "Why have you come here, Dovahkiin?"

The younger man locks gazes with the elder, and a rumble accompanies His next words, "I wish to learn."

Master Arngeir gave a warm smile which did not reach his eyes, and said with a voice that spoke of wisdom, and the hardships to obtain such wisdom,

"Then We Shall Teach You."


	7. Chapter 6

**Of Ice and Dragons**

**Chapter 6**

Eleven years.

It's been eleven terrifying, torturing, and lonely long years and Elsa didn't know how Anna had kept it up, calling for her to come out of her room from outside her very door.

But now, she began to notice that those periods where Anna knocked and asked her those same words kept getting longer and longer, from every few days to every few weeks, and sometimes a month or two would pass without hearing from Anna. Each question that spoke of her coming out of that door was asked in a fainter voice each and every time. It killed Elsa to see Anna giving up on her, after years of isolation between the two. Elsa also knew that this was the best for both of them, whether they both liked it or not.

Elsa stared at the next book in her hand, opening to a random page before her, trying to focus on something to keep her mind off of her regret. In those pages, she sees nothing, but visions of the past that lead to her reading this worthless book in the first place. Due to the flakes of snow drifting about her room, giving the room itself a deep shade of blue, it distracted her from focusing.

Today, her parents were leaving Arendelle for a wedding taking place in Corona, a four-week trip. She had held her chin up when they had announced the trip at the rare family dinner she had attended. Her sister, who looked so different and grown more since the last time she saw her, had been so delighted, rambling on about the sights their parents would see and the possibility of eating chocolate cake, which Anna liked to eat.

Elsa, hearing this, remembered their younger years.

When their parents were dealing with the royal courts, the chefs were preparing a luxury buffet of every delight a child could possibly think of. Because they were short and clever, they were able to hide in washing baskets, under tables, and inside cabinets to avoid being seen, and while they hid, they both snagged pieces of food from the dishes to eat and gnaw at how amazing it tasted. After they went around to see if they could move to desert to find chocolates, both of the sisters gasped and their eyes widened in complete awe as they saw the tallest and most colorful cake they had ever laid their cute and innocent eyes on. Mischievously, Anna climbed the shelves, since the cake was by the wall, and took the small top layer of the 8 layers of the cake. Elsa used her 'gift' to lift herself to Anna's elevation on a pillar of snow and in turn made an ice top to replace the partially 'missing' cake, and both of them tried to best to replicate it with the icing around them as to show they didn't take it. It was sloppy, but they both knew the chef would take the fall. After making an easy escape undetected and the snow melted, they ate their cake and watched from a distance as the head chef was scolded by an obese noblemen like a 5-year-old.

Neither sibling couldn't stop giggling every time they saw the chef.

She smiles at the memory, but then it fades as she remembers the awkward silences between both sisters. And as Elsa sees again her sisters streak of white hair.

The mark of her power…

…the mark of her curse…

After quickly finishing her food, she excused herself and quickly left for her room without looking back.

OOOOO

She rouses herself at the ninth bell's tolling, and makes her way to the grand staircase of the castle.

Her Father and Mother regally descend, and she curtesies to them. And asks the one question she cannot hold back as fear strained her very voice, "Do you have to go?"

Her father smiles at her and answers, "You'll be fine Elsa."

Her mother steps forward with an assuring smile and says, "Take care of your sister for us while were gone."

She curtesies again, looking down to the floor with an unsure feeling, "Yes Mother, I will."

Her mother gently grabbed her hand and kisses the finger tips of the thick winter glove she is wearing. Ever since her curse became more powerful, Elsa's mother found a new way to communicate with her, a way through her power, and that was though the gloves she wore. Just as a mother would embrace a sibling and kiss her child's forehead in an assurance, she holds her hand reassuringly and kisses her fingered gloves and then moves her hand to the side of Elsa's face to stroke an errant piece of hair back into place.

Elsa's mother lifts the younger women's chin and said without a doubt, "Do not cry Elsa," as she sees her daughter's beautiful eyes, "We'll be back before you know it."

OOOOO

The courier has finally returned, and Anna watched as the servants lowered the black veil over her parents portrait. This was a sign that not only did they pass away, but their bodies were swallowed by the ocean, never to be found again.

Above and behind, unnoticed, a slim figure of ivory hair watched from a balcony.

There was naught but a void in Elsa's heart as she looked on.

OOOOO

She stands in front of the door to her sister's room, decorated in a motif of blue and white snowflakes. Anna always wondered why her door was decorated in such a fashion, but she has stopped asking herself that question a long time ago. And as she hesitantly knocks, she cannot think of what to say, then she listens to her heart.

Finally finding the courage to speak, Anna began, "Elsa? Please, I know you're in there… People are asking where've you've been… They say, 'have courage,' and I'm trying to. I'm right out here for you. Just let me in…"

Hearing no reply, Anna reasoned, "We've only got each other," she waits and turns to lean against the door she slides down to sit on the floor, "It's just you and me. What are we going to do?"

She sits on the floor leaning against the door, and she heard every word spoken through it by her sister. And as she looks to the ceiling, she sees the snow frozen in space, no wind nor gravity moved them, save the turning of the individual flakes. Elsa has longed with pent-up regret to fling open the door and embrace her sister, to comfort her in their time of grief and loss, but she fears the deadly consequence of such actions taking place, which only forced her to keep the door closed. But through the door comes a soft whisper she can barely make out, but recognized as such a bond they both shared has withered to the wind…

"Do you want to build a snowman?"

Elsa knew she couldn't reply, it would only make this worse for the both of them, and so Elsa closed her eyes, for they burned from her tears. What was worse about her curse, that just like how women cry on their make-up and shed inked tears, was that the very drops of tears she drew and the trail it left behind froze on her skin, her cheeks burned red to the touch of the trailed ice, and her eyes were red to the burning shedding of those tears, as well as her eyes still touching the icy trail it left behind. Leaning with her back against the door, she curled herself in a ball and cried on her knees, wishing to whoever cursed her to bear such a burden to never have let her been born.

OOOOO

He strides around the small cell the old men had given him, settling the Skyforged Dragonplate on His body as he fitted himself under His straps. A smirk graces the elderly man's face, who sat in a chair across the room from Him, his fingers twitch, _"I think you would be better off with a hammer."_

An annoyed glance from Him only makes the grandfatherly Borri smile more. His own fingers move in the stately cadence of the **Tinvok du Haal**, the Language of Hands, the brother had taught him as He signed, _"Sometime I would think you are right, master Borri, then I remember you have never worn armor."_

Borri replied back, _"A curse some of us must bear with enthusiasm." _which was accompanied by a much larger grin.

He knew that Borri was just having fun, for it had been explained to Him that The Greybeards were men of peace. To them, the **Thu'um **was for the glory of the Gods, not Man. But He, it was explained, was **Dovahkiin**. Dragonborn. Gifted of the Thu'um by Akatosh himself.

He could do what others could not. And to them, it was a necessary part of the gods plans.

But the old men did not know all, like the reason His voice caused the characteristic rumble, and which grew stronger with every dragon He slew. It was something they had explained to Him that should not be. Any Dragonborn they knew of before Him, had never had what the Greybeards called the **Voro**, the Imbalance. He now could only speak in the barest of whispers, and only when at peace. And no Dragonborn, without extensive teaching, could speak and read in **Dovah **like Him. It was a conundrum the Greybeards took to with ease, teaching what they knew and learning from Him what He could teach.

And many lessons had passed in the few weeks He had stayed among them.

Today, He left for the tomb of Jurgen Windcaller, founder of the Way of the Voice, to retrieve his horn. A final test of tests. And when He returned, He would be ready to began a final tutelage under the high master, whom He had yet to even meet, or hear his name. The only information He had gleaned was his location, the very peak of the mountain. The Throat of the World.

The elder man coughed and his fingers twitched once when he had the Dovahkiin's attention, "_What did one Dovah say to the other after they shared a jester?"_

His mind went blank as he tried to assimilate what was obviously a joke, and he hesitantly replied _"What?"_

Borri made a silent broad smile and his fingers twitched, _"Did that jester taste funny to you?"_

The foundation's shook, almost moving like an earthquake as the Dovahkiin laughed. A good honest laughter that felt amazing to the younger man, feeling the joyful force of the Thu'um.

Borri then made a mental rule to not tell jokes within the sanctuary when the Dovahkiin was inside.

OOOOO

To say He was angry was an understatement. He dared not even open His mouth, for fear of wrecking the countryside around Him, and maybe cause an entire avalanche and land slide.

Two more dragons appeared on the trip here and a decent through a tomb was occupied by grave diggers and Draugr. And all He had to show for it was a note in place of where the horn should be. Furious was a better term, He supposed. But He was also suspicious, for why would someone move the horn then leave a note for Him to follow onwards?

"Dragonborn," it read, "come to the Sleeping Giant Inn in Riverwood, rent the attic room."

It was only signed, "A Friend." With much caution, He mounted His new horse, and directed the beast towards Riverwood…

…And His new _Friend_…

OOOOO

She waited by a table, overlooking the entrance of the inn while completely blending in with the people around Her. She waited patiently, and soon, She watched as He entered the inn, His armor meticulously maintained. She focused a little more and saw what it was made of, even though it was made to the same simple design of standard steel.

Still, She shuddered at the thought of how He got the other parts. He whispers to Her friend, Orgnar. For some strange reason, She feels the trembling of the wood and foundations of the inn shake beneath her feet, and it gave everyone in it a small cautious warning. It also warned her of His power, there were few who had it. And if her suspicions were correct, He was born to it.

For the Grandmaster of the Blades, it was her sworn duty to find one such as He.

Then she hears the reply of Orgnar to the Stranger, "Attic room? Sorry, we don't have one. But you can definitely have the one on the left."

The Stranger nods and pulls some coins down on the counter. And immediately retires to the indicated room.

She wonders if doing this was the right choice, but she knew that she was way past the point of no return. She steels herself as she also thought that this was not going to be pleasant. She had seen His eyes and they were _Angry_.

OOOOO

He rode on with the woman named Delphine, for He had been surprised slightly at her revelations. Who she was, what she was investigating, why she had contacted him, and He was even more disturbed at what she had said, _"…dragons aren't just coming back, but they are being raised from their very graves."_

Apparently, she had visited some of the great dragon burial sites. Only to find them empty of dragon remains, only the evidence that there was once a dragon there was all that it showed, and the same was for most of the sites. How she had talked Him around into helping her investigate one of the sites, and How she predicted the next location to be the next raising was beyond his understanding. Only a strange compulsion to find out if she was correct…

Of course, it had helped her immensely in the fact that her first action had been to give Him the Horn. However, this was followed by an interrogation by Him, allowing Him to learn about most of her intentions and why she stole the horn to get His attention.

She covertly watched the young man riding with her from behind Him on horseback. He was plain, she decided. He was big and tall to be sure, and well muscled, but wearing heavy armor did that to a man. Delphine saw that it was as if He didn't want any attention, and being so ordinary was His camouflage. If it wasn't for her knowledge on these sort of things, she would have assumed His armor was decorated with a simple drakes bones and scales. Not the bones and horns and scales of a Dragon.

He was also very quiet. She could only barely hear Him breathing.

Something about Him staying silent made her cautious about talking to Him, for He spoke only in a whisper and only when necessary. But what She found pleasing was His genuine curiosity about her theory, for it had been the tipping point for His decision to accompany her to Kynesgrove. And now she was certain that she would get to see if He really was Dovahkiin.

OOOOO

They crept up the hill, a loud roar sounding almost directly overhead. As soon as they had arrived, it seemed the weather had taken a turn for the worst, for snow blew about them in swirls of white on black, for they had arrived in late evening and it was getting darker by the second.

Another roar, and a whooshing noise accompanied overhead of the dragon's passing. Delphine growled in impatience as she strained to see over the boulder they had hidden behind and said in a low voice, "I can barely see anything, but the mound still looks intact."

A grunt was His reply. A shift in the wind parted the snow to reveal a huge dragon of ebon scales. She sensed more than felt or heard her companions intake of breath. And as she watched the dragon pull up and hover before the mound, she knew her answer to the Dragon's returning was at hand.

The Mighty Black shouts upon the mound **"Sahloknir, ziil gro dovah ulse!**

"**SLEN!"**

And the ground began to shake beneath their feet.

"**TIID!"**

The mound began to tremble

"**VO!"**

_And from the mound the skeleton of the mighty beast burst out._

_Wreathed in flame and reforming flesh._

Delphine looks on as the Dragon burst forth into the storm, and then It spoke, a growling rumble much different from the mighty black. **"Alduin, thuri! Bok lost ustiid ruzun Zu'u lost laat worax hi. Drey hi ni al suleyk do kruziik jun?"**

He knew what it spoke, for it said, _"Alduin, my overlord! An age has past since I had last saw you. Did you not destroy the power of the ancient kings?"_

He than heard another voice, terrible in its anger, its all consuming hunger. Speaking in that ancient language _**"**__Yes, Sahloknir, my trusted ally."_

His body felt numb as the powerful roars wash over them, for The World Eater from the very legends of old, stood (flew?) before Him. And It turned its burning gaze upon Him, easily seeking him out among the rocks, and spoke with scorn, _"So, this is The false Dragonborn? I do not recognize you as dragon. Such arrogance, to take for yourself the name of Dovah!"_

He steps out into the open, His twin swords drawn. Unheeding of his companions alarmed whisper.

The Mighty Black turns to the now fully reformed Sahloknir and commands, **"Sahloknir, Krii daar joorre. Kill these mortals."**

The Red Behemoth immediately drew a breath and roared out, **"YOOR TOR SHUUL!"**

He barely made it out of the path of flame as He dodged the attack. His armor was smoking but not heated from the blast. He returns the favor with a shout of ice, **"FO KRAH DIIN!"**

The Red Behemoth resisted His attack, and its voice shook the snow off of trees around them, _**"Ha! Your thu'um is strong Dovahkiin! But mine is stronger!"**_

He could almost hear the gloating in the dragon's voice. He decides on a new tactic, which the idea itself was both reckless and crazy, if not careless and possibly stupid. He climbs on a boulder thrown free from the dragons mound and holds His arms out like He was waiting to be embraced by the dragon, and in doing so, He taunted as loud as His voice allowed Him, **"Then prove It!"**

He knew He was successful in saying it, for He see's his companion clap her hands over her ears at the mighty thunderclap of His voice. The roar of challenge snaps his attention back to the Red as it takes flight, and He sees almost immediately how it will pass just overhead on its ascent to the sky.

Her ears were ringing from the power of His voice as the thunderclaps of the Thu'um were unleashed before her. She looks up to see Him leap and grab a hold of the Red Dragons Tail as it passed overhead.

Her mouth drops open as His insane audacity, just thinking of how stupid He was to do something that could kill him. She watches as He climbs the dragon, which has gone into a series of rolls, dives and spurts of speed to dislodge the man crawling up its back, but the Dovahkiin was strong enough to hold on as He continued to climb the beast.

She watches as the spiraling flight gets rougher as the Dovahkiin draws one of his swords, and slashes into the dragons back, his slash cutting deep into the dragon and breaking the connection to it's wings. She gasps as the dragon almost immediately flips into a diving spiral, completely out of control. It roars in pain as it struggles to right itself, and an instant before landing it somehow does. And the titanic crash throws the man free from its back, and He twists and turned against the ground until He laid still.

She runs over to Him and helps Him to His feet, and seeing that He is conscious and is okay on standing on His two feet, she smacks Him upside the head, the Dovahkiin's helm set to ringing on how powerful her strike was, and she yells, "Are you crazy?!"

His only reply is a tired smile as He attempts to get His wind back. He looks up from Her to see the red dragon, struggling to stand, and He knew the fight was not over yet. He uses hand signals to move the woman back from Him as He slowly approaches the Dragon, who was still attempting to get back on its feet. Its collapsed wings and paralyzed body prevented much of its movement.

It's struggles soon ceased as it gives in to the realization that it can't move, and then it spots Him.

The Dovahkiin stood in front of the Dragon, and It in turn turns to look at Him in the eye and spoke in a voice of pain, _"So Dovahkiin, you have prevailed. I have underestimated you, just like all who came before me."_

The Dovahkiin felt its hot trembling breath, obviously hurt from not just beyond the wing, but from the impact as well, not to mention its pride, as it asked one last thing from the Dragon Slayer, _"You are __**Kongrahkei,**__ victorious. Finish what you have started."_

He nods, draws His swords and advances on the downed beast. And with one swift stroke, the Dovahkiin honorably ends its suffering.

The next thing Delphine knew, her breath was taken away.

He stands still as before, His arms at His side and as He takes the soul of the Dovah and lets it flow into Him. He leans back His head and lets out a long sigh, which caused the ground around her to shake a little, as the corpse burns without heat.

Her voice stammers out from behind Him after a long silence, "You…You really are, Dragonborn."

His reply causes her to jump even though it's the smallest whisper He can manage, but the ground still shook when He spoke, **"Whatever gave you that idea?"**

OOOOO

His return to High Hrothgar had been eventful, but He was grateful for what He got from it. The information that The Blade had given Him had required him to have some time to think. She had tried to convince Him to go along with her, to go see a companion of hers who knew much of the Dovah. But in light of recent events, and the way she had gotten His attention in the first place, he had declined. And in doing so, they had parted ways.

Not to mention that what He had discovered at Kynesgrove was confirming His worst fears.

**Alduin.**

The World Eater.

He sighed, and slowly rode back to the Throat of the World. Now He had to figure out how to stop Alduin as well. Based on what He learned so far on this journey, and the whispered legends of his homeland. He knew the general outline of the prophecy of the World Eaters return and how He was involved in it, for 'only the Dragonborn could stop Alduin' was the exact words… or close enough.

He was a soldier, not a scholar.

He thought about it as the darkness of night descended, and in doing so, He ascended a little known trail Brother Borri had shown him. He looked up from His thoughts as He neared The Cliff of Evenings Light.

It was called 'The Cliff of Evenings Light' because this cliff was the highest point where the last of the sun illuminated the land, due to the lay of the valleys and mountains here, but it was also a perfect vantage point to see the great Northern Lights. Many of Borri's brothers, including Borri himself, come here to meditate in peace.

He slowed and then dismounted to watch the illuminated northern sky. The interplay of lights was something He rarely saw in his time south from His once-known home. The question He kept asking himself came coming back to haunt Him…

Why? Why Him and Him alone? Why must he be responsible for saving the land from Alduin? Nothing he had ever seen told him that trying to save this land, the world itself, was worth the effort and time, as well as the risk of His own life.

His anger was rising. Why should he? For the gods? They did nothing but made Him live His life with no purpose or direction. For the Empire? They had tried to kill him so many times he had lost count, regardless of how loyal or how many good deeds he and his legion achieved. For the people? None would want a stranger in their house and would be nothing but another mouth to feed.

He could not think of a compelling reason to do it. To Him, there was nothing that He would earn from when it came to fight Alduin, save one thing, death.

Every direction He took to redeem himself, people that he cared about died and always made him survive to watch the chaos. His anger spirals upwards as He paces the cliff line.

But what set Him off was that regardless what he did, everywhere he went, or what he suffered through, Death always lingered around him like a bad odor that no one would want to smell.

Why? Why should he do it? Why must he continue to suffer for the rest of his days?

If Death has ruined His life, than why has that spirit not claimed His soul yet?

He turn and shouts to the lights, their beauty mocking Him, taunting Him for the words of beauty He once held only for His Wife.

**"Why?! Why should I save them?!"**

He watches the lights in their interplay, unmoved by His shouts. His anger raged beyond control to the thought of it continuing to mock Him.

**"Why!? They took everything I ever loved! They made me suffer a thousand lifetimes over!"**

The power of His voice sets off avalanches around Him. He doesn't care and yelled a roar powerful enough for His yell to be compared to that of a Dragon.

**"Why?!"**

The hills are silent as it echoes His shout far and wide until it faded in the distance. His anger fades away in the silence, realizing that His anger will never end, but since it rages with no direction, it quickly consumes itself, losing its purpose to be angry at something, when it was Himself all along. His head lowers as He looked to His scarred hands, for His hands had taken many lives, held many tools and weapons, held and carried the burden of others, and held His dead Wife as He whispers, "I couldn't even save Her. How can I even save them?"

His eyes began to cloud in vision, feeling His eyes water from His sadness. He closes His eyes as His tears fall to the ground at His feet. The lights from the sky began floating around Him on the snow.

Than he heard the beautiful voice, a voice that could possibly belong to that of a Valkyrie,

_"Because only you can."_

He looks up at the whisper from beyond. His Heart freezes in his very chest, for He sees a figure in the light before Him. Her eyes are of crystal in the evening, Her hair free into the wind, Her shape well-remembered, Her voice suddenly recognizable.

For the first time in the weeks since He had discovered His birthright, the Thu'um in His voiced cracked as He falls to His knees in front of Her, bewildered and amazed on seeing

Her bright beautiful face once again as all words, Old Nord, Cyrodillic, and Dovah escaped him.

She smiles, and Her whisper comes again with such crystal grace, _"Because only You can, my love."_

He didn't know if this was a trick of the gods themselves or if She really was before Him, but He didn't care. But than a memory came back to Him, and He shamefully looks down and away from Her, saying with the regret of a broken man as His tears fall freely down His face., "I broke my oath to you."

What not only confused him and made his heart melt was hearing her beautiful laugh. He looked to Her with a loss for words. He expected her to lash out and curse Him for breaking His oath to Her, but instead She laughed like it was a joke. She eventually stopped laughing and said, "_You never made an oath to me, my love. You couldn't make an oath to me when we both knew you couldn't keep it. To either defend or to avenge Me. It's in your soul to never do so."_

After walking a few paces until She was right in front of Him, She slowly lent a hand and softly touched His chin, feeling the warmth of Her soul and the softness of Her touch as He lets Her lift His head to make Him look into Her beautiful evening eyes. She spoke, _"You cannot make a false oath to me or to anyone else because it is who you are. It's who you've always been. You were born for this, ZinGrahDrog."_

The Dovahkiin's very core shook by what She just said. He shook because of what She named Him. In all His life, He never had a name worth remembering, and never earned one. Boy, Beggar, Thief, Apprentice, Smith, Legionnaire… Husband… all titles, never a name.

But she called him ZinGrahDrog. He understood what it meant. In the light of his beloved… No…

His eyes turn away, "I have no right to that name."

"_You have more right to that name than any other, My love." _His eyes turn back to Her, confusion written on His face, Her voice a firm clear chime, Her eyes showing the truth,

"_You were born to it."_

She steps away, and He looked on as She backed into the open air and spoke for the last time, _"In time, you will learn to live again, my love. In time, your heart will heal, and you will learn to love once more."_

She smiles and assures, _"Know that I am at peace, for all your oaths to me have been fulfilled."_

She floats away fading into the light of evening and the last thing He sees is Her smile of contentment with Her evening blue eyes closed, like she could finally rest.

He rises from His knees and finally knows the truth.

…He will not do it for the Innocent…

…He will not do it for the Empire…

…He will not even do it for Himself…

…He would do it…

…for Her.


End file.
